


i couldn't stop myself from writing (and i'm not sorry)

by riverdalenerdlol



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, F/M, Riverdale
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2019-09-02 13:21:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16787761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riverdalenerdlol/pseuds/riverdalenerdlol
Summary: A collection of my insights on Bughead/Betty/Jughead/etc. and what happens in scenes we don't get to see.The title is true to my sentiments. It's all here and I am definitely not sorry.





	1. what should have been (3.06)

**Author's Note:**

> 3.06 SPOILERS AHEAD
> 
> Canon divergence. Hope you like it.

"Are you out of your mind?! Why are you doing this?!" I screamed, being pulled away by my shoulders. 

"Because I love you, Elizabeth," she replied. 

_Bullshit,_ I thought. I wish I'd said it. I wish I screamed it at the top of my lungs as the two white-clad men pulled me through the front door.

I wish I yelled it proudly as I saw Sister Woodhouse following us out.

But I didn't. 

Instead, I struggled against the men. I told them to get their hands off of me, to let me go, that it was a mistake. I cried out for my mom to stop this insanity, but she didn't. She wouldn't.

Of course, they didn't listen. They belonged to a higher power. _My mother_. Like always. 

Tears flowed down my face like a waterfall as I protested. I tried to scream for someone, anyone, outside the house to help me. One of the men clamped his hand over my mouth so they wouldn't hear me. _I wonder if Polly felt this way, too_. 

I was trying to claw my way out of the hold of the men. My jaw clamped down on the hand over my mouth. The man exclaimed and jumped back, releasing his hold on me. 

_This was my chance_ _._

I bolted back to the front door, then realized that my mother would just hand me back over. I turned and saw the man running for me. 

_Shit,_ I thought. I squealed and made a break for the Andrews' house. 

"MISTER ANDREWS!" I yelled. I'd made it up the steps, but the man was right behind me. Panicking, I banged on the door with my fist. No answer. I wanted to kick it down like Jughead did mine a few months prior. I pulled my leg up, about to do it, when the man reached me.

He pulled me away by my torso before I could take my foot to the deadbolt. I screamed, flailed, dug my nails into the man's hands. I knew I drew blood, but that didn't stop him.

"Please!" I screamed. "Don't do this! Let me go!" And in that moment, a light flashed on in my head. Jughead had insisted that I have a basic understanding of self defense when I joined the Serpents over the summer. It was now or never. 

I took my heel and jabbed the man's groin with it. 

"Auugh," he groaned. I broke his hands again, got on my feet, and started running in the opposite direction of Archie's house. I shoved Sister Woodhouse out of my way, speeding past faster than I ever knew that I could.

"GO GET HER!" I heard the little woman screech. It didn't matter, I was too far now. I turned my head and saw them all getting into the white van that they were supposed to use to transport me to the Sisters of Quiet Mercy. The van revved up. 

"I should've fucked that van up," I muttered as I kept running. It was too late for that. And the last time I checked, loony members of homes for troubled youths didn't just stop a van when you wanted to yank a part from its engine.

I was about halfway to Riverdale High when I turned my head and saw the headlights coming after me. I kept running. I don't know how long I ran for, but I knew where I was headed and it wasn't to Riverdale High. Even when my legs became heavy and I could taste the iron in my spit, I kept running.

I ran past the neon glow of Pop's diner. I debated on going in and trying to hide in the speakeasy with Veronica, but I already had an idea of where I was headed. I couldn't afford a pit stop. So I kept going.

I could feel my ponytail becoming looser, more frazzled, and a few strands falling out, grazing my forehead. It didn't matter. I kept running. 

Now wheezing, tear stains on my cheeks, I made it to the edge of the Northside. Over the summer I'd memorized the only safe path to where I was headed. I followed it because I knew it like the back of my hand. I knew my salvation was waiting near the end of it, so I kept running. I'd come down this road countless amounts of times, whether it be over the summer or before that.

I could see the image I'd been expecting since the beginning of my fleeting escape: the remains of Sunnyside Trailer Park. Right over the border of the Southside. I turned over my shoulder and saw the lights again. They were still on my trail. 

I broke into a full sprint. This was the home stretch. The last leg of the race to outrun the darkness. 

I appeared through the trees, but no one was there. It was deserted. 

"No..." I wheezed. "This can't be..." I saw the headlights peering through the trees, and bolted up to the Jones trailer. I pulled the key from where I knew he hid it, unlocking the door quickly. I threw it open, slammed it closed, and shut every. Single. Lock. 

"Jug!" I screamed. "Jughead?!" 

"Betty?" I heard someone ask. It wasn't Jughead, though. A familiar silhouette emerged from the bedroom. 

"FP," I said breathlessly, walking up to him. "You have to help me, FP. You _have to_."

"What's going on?" He asked, obviously concerned and slightly frightened. 

"T-The Sisters of Quiet Mercy. They're trying to take me away. Please, FP. You _have to help me_. Please--" 

"Who's trying to send you _there?_ _"_ He asked. 

"My mom. Look, we don't have much ti--"

"Get in the bathroom. Lock the doors. Turn on the shower. Don't come out until you hear seven knocks." 

"Why so m--"

"GO!" He insisted. I bolted, immediately doing as he said.

My shaky hand turned the shower all the way up, trying to create as much steam as possible. Still trying to regain my breath, I collapsed against the wall, my back sliding down until I was sitting with my knees tucked to my chest and my head buried in them. 

Tears were still falling from my eyes. Every time that I brushed them away, they were immediately replaced. My sobbing was quiet, my hands still shaking as the steam filled the bathroom.

The warm, moist air was surprisingly calming. It reminded me of time with Jughead, spent by Sweetwater River over the summer, taking in the view, the water, and sometimes each other. The price I would pay to get another relaxing summer day with Jughead, Veronica, and Archie would cost me infinite amounts of money.

Archie was now a falsely convicted murderer on the run from juvie. 

Veronica was currently in the business of speakeasies and fending off her vengeful and blatantly evil father. 

Jughead had been handcuffed to his own fridge that very same day, by the man that was now protecting me. 

My head lifted when I heard distinct banging coming from the other room. I heard the door open, and I could tell that the muffled voice coming from inside the trailer was that of Sister Woodhouse. She and her goons must have requested to search the trailer. I could feel the men's heavy footsteps on the floor as they made their way through, checking each crevice for me. 

Suddenly, the door handle rattled. I jumped. 

"Hey, hey! My son is in there, showering!" FP said. An idea popped into my head. I racked my brain for a sarcastic quote. 

"Yeah, back the hell off!" I yelled in my best Jughead voice (which I'd learned, wasn't too far from the original). "What does a guy have to do around here for a little privacy?!"

Sister Woodhouse said something about the fact that it was their mistake for bothering "Jughead" in the shower, thanked FP for his time, then left the trailer. I listened for the van to pull away, and then I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. 

_Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock._

I got up and cracked the door open partly, the shower still running behind me. 

"Are they gone?" I asked quietly. 

"Yes. You're safe now, Betty." 

I flung the door open and clung to him like a wet swimsuit does to your body. 

"You've got a hell of a good Jughead impression. Did you know that?" FP asked. 

"He told me." 

"Of course he did." FP paused for a moment. "You can stay here as long as you need, now that there's a bed free." 

_Wait._ I pulled away from the hug. 

"What do you mean?" I asked. 

"Jughead skipped town. Left a note. It was an odd reason, really." 

"Can I see it?" Betty asked. FP nodded, walking over to the kitchen table and back. He gave me the slightly worn paper. I unfolded it and read.

FP was right. It was odd. Where was there a monumental arch in Toledo? And _what_ about a safe hike?

_It's coded_ , I thought. I tried to decipher it in my head: _Toledo, arch, trek, safe..._

_Jughead has left with Archie on foot to find him a safe place to stay_. 

I couldn't tell FP that. Archie was still a falsely convicted murderer. Stuck in my moment of realization, FP pulled me back into reality. 

"See what I mean?" FP asked. "That boy. Confusing as hell." 

"I understand it clearly, Mr. Jones," I replied. "But I can't tell you what it says. It's for the safety of multiple people." I paused. "No code breaker would be able to figure out what this means. There's no pattern like most codes. This one... Those that know, know."

"Is he going to be okay?" FP asked. 

"Most likely. That's the goal, actually. To stay safe." I paused. FP nodded. 

"Well at that, I can finally have some peace of mind," he added. "I'll take the couch. You're welcome to Jughead's bed, Betty."

"Thank you, Mr. Jones," I replied. 

"No Serpent left behind. Especially when it's the Queen of 'em," he said. "Goodnight, Cooper." 

"Goodnight," I added, turning off the shower before walking into Jughead's room. I closed the door behind me, locking it, then realized I had no other clothing. Quickly, I made over to the separate pile of clothes that Jughead left out for my use. I smiled and took a shirt and a pair of flannel pajama pants. I changed swiftly into both of them, then crawled under his sheets. 

They smelled exactly like him. I couldn't help but snuggle down, pulling the covers up to my face, and burying my nose in his pillow. That was the only reason I was able to sleep: Jughead's lingering scent. 

Though I was exhausted, I pondered what could have been from that night. 

My mom was probably going to come looking for me with Woodhouse in tow the next day, forcing me back into the hands of the Sisters. Maybe she wouldn't. Maybe she'd accept that I'd run off, nowhere to be found, therefore, nowhere near the Gargoyle King. Maybe she'd stay in town to find me. I didn't know.

All I knew was what could have happened if Jughead hadn't taught me that little sliver of self defense, if FP hadn't been home, if Fred _had_ been home, if my mom didn't have the ingenious idea to send me away... If I wasn't in love with Jughead...

But it didn't truly matter...

They were just what could have been. And I wouldn't change the way that I flew into safety's arms. Even if they weren't directly Jughead's 


	2. safe (Season 3 Future)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Veronica calls Jughead while he's in Toledo that she thinks Betty is in the Sisters of Quiet Mercy. Thinking he knows why, Jughead freaks out to Archie, and decides to take them both back to Riverdale to rescue Betty. He takes a team with him to carry out the mission. 
> 
> If they aren't fast enough, they may not all escape with their lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Future Canon Divergence
> 
> SPOILER FOR 3.06  
> YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

“SHE DID  _ WHAT _ ?!” I screamed into my phone. Alice fucking Cooper was going to regret it. 

“We think she sent Betty to the Sisters of Quiet Mercy,” Veronica said again. “Jughead, where the hell are  _ you _ ?!” 

“I’m in Toledo, with--” I stopped. I couldn’t say it. I wasn’t cruel. I wasn’t going to be cruel. 

“With Archie?” She asked. 

“I didn’t want to say it because... You know...” 

“I understand,” she said. “Just get back to Riverdale, Jughead. Betty needs a rescue. Immediately. I’ve been there to get Cheryl out. It’s  _ haunting _ .”

“I’m leaving now,” I replied, running into the room I was staying in, throwing clothes and my stuff into my bag. “I’ll be there as soon as possible. Alice Cooper is going to  _ burn in hell for this _ . I’ll make sure of that.” He paused. “Is she--?”

“Good. We’ll be waiting.” Veronica then hung up on me. I threw my phone into my pocket, then violently zipped up the packed duffel bag. Someone walked into the room behind me. 

“What was that about?” Archie asked. “It sounded serious.” 

“Betty’s in the Sisters of Quiet Mercy,” I replied. “But, Archie... I think she’s pregnant.”

“ _ WHAT _ ?!” He yelled. “I’ll slam Alice through a WALL for sending her away for that!” 

“But, Arch,” Jughead said, running his hand through his hair nervously and beginning to pace the room. “What if I got her pregnant? What if she’s carrying my kid in that hellhole? What will I do?!” 

“You’ve learned enough from your own dad on what  _ not _ to do,” Archie said. “You’d be great.”

“We’ve got to go back to Riverdale,” I said. “I know you don’t wa--” 

“I’ll go,” he said. I turned around. 

“Really?” I asked. 

“We have to get her out,” Archie said. 

“If you’re going with me, we’re not coming back. No more hiding, Arch.” I paused. “I know you miss Veronica. I can see it in your eyes.” Archie looked down at his feet. “You mutter her name in your sleep, you try to keep a forced smile on your face. I can see right through that. You want her back. You know it. I know it.”

“Our girlfriends are the best things that have happened to us in the past year, huh?” Archie muttered. 

“They are,” I agreed. “Which is why you can’t stop thinking about Veronica, and why I need to get back to Riverdale.” I paused. “I thought she was safe in Riverdale. I assumed when she didn’t pick up my call that she was just busy.” He paused again. “Jesus Christ, Archie, I think I got her pregnant and now she’s at the Sisters because of  _ me _ ! I want to throw  _ myself  _ through a wall!”

“Me too,” he replied. “For leaving Ronnie alone to deal with her dad.” 

“Pack up, and we’ll go fix it,” I replied, throwing his jacket towards him. Archie nodded. He packed the small backpack quickly, throwing it over his shoulder when he was done. 

“Let’s go save our girls,” he said, putting his baseball cap on his flaming red hair. I nodded. 

We left Toledo quickly on a bike that my mom loaned me. Being the Serpent King, she had to let me take the bike, and she understood why we had to leave so suddenly. We would have left on foot, but it would have been too slow, and our presence in Riverdale was imminent: Betty was institutionalized and possibly pregnant, and Veronica was panicking. 

Archie, who had no idea how to ride a motorcycle, was forced to accept the fact that our situation was time-dependent and clung to me as I sped down the road. The whole trip was a blur in my head. I had one goal: save Betty. 

It was my job to protect her when I could. I  _ wanted _ to protect her. At my birthday party, I punched Chuck because he insulted her. I kissed her scars. I cradled her as we slept when she was out of her mind about the Black Hood. I helped her push a man’s car into Sweetwater Swamp after she was rattled when Chic killed the man. I accepted her for who she was and what she wanted at Lodge Lodge. I stood in front of her when Cassidy Bullock and his goons tried to rob the cabin. She was the first one I comforted when Midge was revealed dead onstage. Countless amounts of times, I dried her tears that were caused by her father being the one who tormented her for half of the school year. I constantly reassured her. When she was spiraling about the new school year starting, I put my beanie on her head. It was the one thing that I felt safest in, and I put it on her head, trying to make her feel safer. That night when I made love to her on the shore of the Sweetwater River, it was a reassurance that I was going to keep protecting her. 

_ That’s what I was supposed to be doing, _ I thought.  _ I was supposed to be protecting her, and I ended up skipping town with Archie. I thought she was safe. A single unanswered phone call isn’t suspicious for people like us.  _

We were going on our separate paths, though we’d encountered each other a few times in the process. Sure, I was investigating the Gargoyle King’s group of friends, she was interrogating the Midnight Club and Darryl Doiley. We had checked in every now and again to make sure the other was okay and being safe in their investigations. 

The only way I could reason that Betty would be sent to the Sisters was that she was pregnant. I was really freaking out now. The possibility that the love of my life was carrying our child had me going insane. What would we name her? Or him? Were we ready to be parents? Would the Sisters force her to abort the child? Would they let her have it? I had no idea, and I was spooked by the thought of them taking Betty away and hurting her.

If Alice only knew the conversation we had after her seizure and before they ran into the Gargoyle King for the first time. Alice didn’t know that investigating Riverdale’s crimes was the most normal thing for her. I knew that. When she thought of home, Betty saw herself and I reasoning through the utter stupidity of the mysteries in Riverdale. 

Before I knew it, I was speeding over Sweetwater Bridge. I raced past what used to be the Twilight Drive-In, and ended up in Pop’s parking lot. After all, Veronica’s opening statement on the phone was, “I don’t know where the _hell_ you think you are, but you need to get your ass to my speakeasy _right the_ _fuck now_.” So when I entered Pop’s with Archie, Pop Tate immediately directed us to the secret door in the back. We ran down the stairs, and I saw Veronica, Toni, Kevin, Cheryl, Sweet Pea, and Fangs. 

“We’re here,” I said, dropping my helmet on the ground. Veronica locked eyes with Archie.

“Ronnie,” he muttered. She stood there for a moment, her arms crossed in front of her. “I’m so—“

She stopped him by running over and wrapping her arms around him. 

“I’m back,” he said. “I’m back for good this time. And I’m sorry for leaving in the first place.” 

“Archiekins,” she replied simply. “You’re here now. That’s what matters.” Their faces leaned into each other. Knowing what was coming, I spoke up. 

“Archie reunion can wait, Veronica,” I stated. They broke away, but kept holding hands. “Betty’s in the Sisters of Quiet Mercy. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I think that comes first right now.” The whole room nodded in agreement. “Good.” 

“So let’s go rescue Betty Cooper.” 

\---

It was sunset when four black motorcycles raced down the road, each rider fully cloaked in black, except for one red leather jacket. 

The leader’s face was uncovered, a silver crown etched in the paint of his black helmet with a rainbow stripe. A few black curls were evident at the crest of his forehead. He was angry. Infuriated. Ready for a fight. He was the only one riding alone, a black leather jacket presented proudly on his back. The emblem on the back showed he was from the Southside Serpents. His logo was different from the other riders; where they had a circle logo of a serpent, his was in the shape of an “S”. 

Not too far behind him were two more bikes, two riders each. On the bike to the leader’s left rode a tall, olive-skinned teen with a tattoo on his neck, identical to the leader’s jacket logo. His helmet had a reflective visor so that no one could see his face or eyes. Sitting behind him on the bike was a muscular teen, also clad in a leather jacket. He clung to the tall teenager for dear lie as they sped down the road. His bright red hair poked out slightly from under his helmet. 

On the bike to the leader’s right was a shorter olive-skinned teenager. His clean-cut black hair wasn’t able to be seen under the dark helmet he wore as he rode. Holding onto his torso was a teenage girl who, by the look on her face, had never been on a motorcycle before. Her black hair flowed outside of the helmet and the string of pearls around her neck contrasted greatly with the solid black jacket, outfit, and helmet she wore. 

Centered behind the two bikes, the fourth motorcycle rode. A short teenager with caramel skin and bubblegum pink hair sat on the front, her face shielded from view by her black helmet. Her hair covered the logo on the back of the jacket, pink clashing with the green of the snake. Behind her, a pale-skinned redhead held around her. She was much taller than the teenager with pink hair, and her jacket was a bold red, as was her lip, helmet, and pack of arrows on her back. The teenager’s bow was slung across her shoulder, an accomplished archer. Those in Riverdale who knew her well enough had heard stories of her aim: she never missed her target.

From the front, the leader held up a fist, and all four bikes pulled onto a beaten trail inside a treeline. They went single file down the dusty path, dirt flying behind them and pebbles thrown to the sides.

The pink and black-haired young women were the ones that gave directions to the leader on how to get to the secret entrance of the Sisters of Quiet Mercy. The group had already sent another, clad fully in black with a red pickup truck, to the back entrance. He was there to make sure everything would be safe enough for their mission: to retrieve a specific blonde from the confines of the hellhole. He’d communicated that it was safe, and that’s when the group of seven took off towards the Sisters of Quiet Mercy in a diamond formation. 

The leader saw the pickup truck just barely through the trees. He held up his fist again and skidded to a stop in front of the son of the former sheriff. The teenager put out the kickstand, then took off his helmet, his black waves shaken back to life in the residual of sunlight. Only a sliver was left, then it was safe to go rescue the blonde. The three bikes pulled up behind the leader, every teenager taking off their helmet and getting off the bikes.

“Kevin,” the leader said. 

“Jughead,” Kevin replied. “I brought the weapons from Sunnyside that you asked me to get before we came over. They’re in the back.” 

“Thank you,” Jughead replied. He turned back to his associates. “Get what you need to from the back of Kevin’s truck.” The teenagers nodded and took a look through the assortment of blunt objects. The redheaded boy, Archie, clapped a baseball bat in his hand, and nodded in satisfaction. The pink-haired girl, Toni, took a belt of smoke bombs and her switchblade. The raven-haired girl, Veronica, took three throwing knives. The tall, olive-skinned boy, Sweet Pea, had his switchblade, a pair of handcuffs, and a machete. The shorter olive-skinned boy, Fangs, took the crowbar and his switchblade. The redheaded girl, Cheryl, already had her trusty set of bow and arrows. 

Jughead looked around at his troops quickly. They each had at least one weapon in their hand. Strictly sticking to the “leaders go last” saying, he’d waited for them all to choose first. When Jughead rounded the flatbed, all he saw left was shocking. 

“Kevin, why the hell would you bring these?!” Jughead said. 

“Jughead, I know these are desperate times--” 

“You still shouldn’t have--” Jughead didn’t want the chance to seriously injure his possibly pregnant girlfriend.

“One is for me,” Kevin said. “I’m guarding the door. You’ll need Veronica, Toni, and Cheryl to go with you. They know the inside. I’m staying here with the truck for when you get out. I’ve gotta do what I have to do.” 

“Okay, what about the other one?” Jughead asked. “I’m not taking it!” 

“You’re the one that’s supposed to be getting Betty,” Kevin said. “You need it more than the rest of them.”

“But I don’t  _ want _ it. What will she say?” Jughead asked. “I don’t want to put Betty in danger with that.” 

“Take it, Jughead,” Kevin said. “You don’t have to use it if you don’t want to, but you should have it just in case.” Jughead crossed his arms, sighed, and picked up the weapon. He handed the other to Kevin. They both tucked the weapons inside their belt, so they could reach it easily. Jughead knew his switchblade was in his pocket, which was ready to be pulled out. He turned to his group.

“We get in and we don’t come out unless we have Betty with us,” Jughead said. “Agreed?” They nodded seriously, ready for a war on the other side of the boarded door. It had been locked from the outside by another crowbar ever since Cheryl came out of that door. The teenagers got closer to the door as Jughead turned and pulled the crowbar out from the handle, throwing it on the ground. He opened the door, pulling out his handy flashlight, and beckoned for the teenagers to follow him. 

This was it. 

They were going to do it.

\---

Betty Cooper had been sitting in the Sisters of Quiet Mercy for two weeks now. She’d been dragged in after her mother sent her away so she could go to the farm. She’d screamed and kicked and protested all the way there, until the two male nurses gave her a sedative. The next thing she knew, she woke up wearing a blue dress with a white collar, white shoes, and a red cardigan. Not to mention the fact that her wrists were tied down to the bed, above her head. 

When Sister Woodhouse had come in later, she released her from the hold and spoke to her frankly. She gave Betty a two hour-long premise of the rules. All of the rules. Rules for her, rules for the girls, rules for meals, free time, dressing, sleeping, you name it. There seemed to be a rule for everything.

Since that day, Betty fell asleep each night, bawling her eyes out. She wanted Jughead, she wanted her mom to come back, she wanted Veronica, she wanted anyone who cared about her enough to come and rescue her. The main person she wanted to see or talk to was Jughead. She wanted to hold him tightly to her chest and beg him to take her with him. 

He hadn’t come. 

Betty wasn’t mad that he hadn’t come for her. She wasn’t mad at him. If she was mad at anyone, it was her mother (and Ethel, because she’d become annoying inside the confines of what seemed to be her new life for the time being). She was mad that Alice had taken her away from her investigation, her boyfriend, her family, her home, her friends.

Betty wanted out, even though she was in the middle of the odd involvement of the Sisters with her regularly occurring visions of Gargoyle King-esque figures. She was still traumatized from the night he broke into her house. Most of her dreams involved her being forced away from her house or her escape from the Gargoyle King in her house. The Sisters of Quiet Mercy was already a hellscape, but so were her dreams.

She was constantly in fear of the next thing that would come her way inside the home for troubled youths. She’d been punished multiple times for looking through files in broken-into offices (they hadn’t realized that it was the bobby pins they allowed her to have that unlocked those doors). Any time that she spent around Ethel was torture. She droned on and on about the Gargoyle King in whispers that Betty hadn’t found a way to escape. She was tormented daily by Sister Woodhouse as she tried to get Betty to talk about why she was such a “bad girl” and why she would defy her mother’s requests for her to stop investigating. 

Being berated by a nun who had the power to have Betty punished didn’t end well most nights. After refusing to answer questions, Betty would be sent to the basement to perform a demeaning task, or in more serious cases, she would be given lashings. She would go back to her room, tears daring to not spill from her eyes until the door locked from the outside. 

It was only then that Betty would notice the crescent moons appearing on her palms. She could never consciously remember when she did it because the days passed as a blur. Betty now had to lie on her stomach to sleep from the lashings, where she was accustomed to sleeping on her back. Sometimes she would wake up with searing pain, noticing that she rolled onto her back. Hot tears made their way across her face and she would quickly flip to her stomach once more. Betty could remember a few nights where she woke up multiple times or just couldn’t sleep from the pain. 

By the end of two weeks, her bruises, scars, and cuts on her back would just turn into one word: pain. Betty’s nails made their way back into the skin of her palms more than she liked to admit and more than they did any normal day in Riverdale. 

Betty was now walking back to her room as the sun set, just having received lashings from Sister Livingston for refusing to speak to Sister Woodhouse. Because of the punishment, Betty wasn’t able to attend the newly-instated reading hour with the rest of the teenagers and children trapped within the walls of the Sisters. Instead, she was being led back to her room for the rest of the night. 

The lock shut as the sun dipped over the horizon, causing the sky to turn shades of pink and purple. Betty sat on the floor, tears running down her face as she watched the sky change color until it was an inky black.

\---

Toni, Veronica, and Fangs went down the corridor to go cause a distraction by smoke bombs. Sweet Pea, Archie, and Cheryl made their way down another hallway with Jughead. Sweet Pea led in the front with his machete as Archie took the rear with his baseball bat. Jughead and Cheryl were between the two taller boys, and Cheryl had an arrow on the string of her bow, ready if needed.

Jughead dared not to touch the weapon that was tucked under his belt. He didn’t want to use it, though he had it if the situation became dire. His switchblade was open in his hand as they marched down the hallway. 

The group of four moved swiftly. They looked in the circular windows, though they saw that all of the rooms were empty.

“They must have an event tonight,” Cheryl said. “If the Betty we know is here, she could still be in her room.” 

“Why?” Jughead asked as he glanced inside yet another empty room. 

“If she’s being Nancy Drew, if she’s refusing to talk to the nuns... Refusing to stop being herself...” Cheryl trailed off. Jughead realized that she would probably still be in her room. Betty wasn’t one to give in or give up. She didn’t quit. Jughead knew that.

“Then we keep looking through here,” Jughead said. “If Veronica sees her, she’d get her out and call us.” 

They kept going through every room until--

“BETTY!” Archie exclaimed as he peered through a window on a door. “Jughead, she’s in here!” 

How Jughead shoved Archie out of the way of the door, he didn’t know. The adrenaline coursing through his body blurred his vision partly. He looked through the circle on the door and saw her. 

Betty was sitting on the floor in a blue dress with a white collar, a red cardigan hanging on her shoulders. Her blonde hair was mussed, and she was staring out the window from the cement floor. Jughead rapped on the window twice. 

She turned her head, and Jughead saw her eyes. They were red and swollen from crying, contrasting from the normal emerald green color. She got off the floor slowly, wincing as she rose. 

Jughead, infuriated that Betty had been upset, stepped back and rammed his heel into the door, breaking the deadbolt. The door flew open, the handle creating a large dent in the wall, holding it open. Jughead ran inside, closing his switchblade and putting it away. He grabbed Betty and held her to his chest. 

“Jughead,” she sighed. 

“We came for you, Betty,” he said. “We’re here to get you out.” She nodded into his shoulder, at a loss for words. “Wereyousentherebecauseyou’repregnant?” He rushed the question. 

“Jug, what?” Betty asked. 

“Were you sent here because you’re... pregnant?” Jughead asked carefully. Betty laughed. 

“God, no!” She exclaimed. She laughed again. “That’s adorable that you were so concerned about that, though.” She paused. “My mom sent me here because she thought I was getting too close to my investigation with the Gargoyle King... And he kind of entered our house, but that’s beside the point.” 

“So you’re not pregnant?” Jughead asked. “You were still on the pill?” 

“I’m not pregnant, Jughead,” Betty replied, holding his face. “I was still on the pill.” 

“Well that’s a relief--”

Just then, a red flashing light started to go off, and Veronica, Toni, and Fangs ran into the room. An alarm sounded, and they heard the footsteps of nuns coming closer. 

“Jones, we have to get out of here,” Toni said. “Nuns don’t like smoke bombs!”

“Go back to your bikes, all of you,” Jughead said. “Archie, Sweet Pea, Cheryl, you stay with me.” Veronica, Fangs, and Toni scattered from the scene. Jughead released Betty from his hold and interlocked hands with her. 

“In unity, there is strength,” Jughead said. 

“In unity, there is strength!” They repeated, then exited the room.

Archie led this time, followed by Jughead and Betty, Cheryl, and Sweet Pea. They started running for the entrance to the underground tunnels. Archie had gotten lost, and it resulted in the party of five having to dodge nuns a few times. Cheryl took the lead, and they found the door, but nuns were on all sides of them. Sister Woodhouse stepped in front of the door. 

They stopped in the middle of about a hundred nuns. Cheryl’s arrow was pulled back, Archie looked as if he was on the baseball team, and Sweet Pea held his machete as if it was his last hope. Jughead, gaining an idea, held Betty back against his chest, as if he was using her to shield him. 

“Stop right there,” Sister Woodhouse demanded. They were already stopped. 

“You will get out of our way,” Jughead growled maniacally. 

“Where do you think you are going?” she asked. “Are you attempting a rescue?” 

“No,” Jughead lied. Archie, Cheryl, and Sweet Pea glared at him. Jughead nodded slightly. 

“We’re here to kidnap Ms. Cooper,” Jughead said, covering Betty’s mouth forcefully. 

“Go with it,” he whispered out of the corner of his mouth. She nodded slightly and added to the act, squirming against Jughead, trying to remove his hand from her mouth gently.

“We can do this the easy way or the hard way,” Jughead said. “I have no qualms against the hard way... Move out of our way and let us go, or...” 

“Or what?” Sister Woodhouse demanded. Jughead sighed. He didn’t want it to have to come to this. Jughead reached down to his belt and pulled out the pistol he got from Kevin. The nuns gasped as Jughead cocked the pistol, holding it to Betty’s head. She jumped, and Jughead held her tighter to him. Betty clamped her hand on his wrist.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he whispered again. 

“If you don’t let us go, I will shoot her,” Jughead said. “Mrs. Cooper won’t like that the ‘safest place’ in Riverdale for Elizabeth, here, suddenly became dangerous, would she?” 

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to put the gun down--” Sister Woodhouse began, stepping forward. Jughead clenched Betty’s body to him and shoved the gun next to her temple, making Betty grip down harder on his wrist. 

“IF YOU TAKE ANOTHER STEP, I WILL SHOOT HER! I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL!” 

Tears flowed from Betty’s eyes and onto Jughead’s hand. Her breathing quickened through her nose. Sister Woodhouse stepped back where she was. Jughead could feel Betty’s legs shaking to hold her up. Feeling her hot tears on his hand was terrible enough for him. Now he knew that he was  _ scaring her _ . He didn’t like that.

“We’ll let you get going, then,” Sister Woodhouse said. “We will say nothing of this, and we will allow you to get on your way.” Jughead nodded towards her. She shut off the alarm next to her. The sirens and flashing red lights stopped. “Disperse,” Sister Woodhouse muttered. 

The nuns quickly ran, clearing the halls, along with Sister Woodhouse. Just to keep up the act, Jughead kept the pistol against Betty’s head and his hand across her mouth until they got everyone inside the stairwell. Cheryl, Archie, and Sweet Pea dropped their weapons and ran down the stairs. Jughead put the gun back in his belt and released his hold on Betty. 

“What the  _ hell _ \--?”

“I’ll tell you about it when we get out of here. Let’s go before they change their minds,” Jughead interrupted. Betty nodded but refused to even hold Jughead’s hand. 

The group of five made it down the stairs and out the door quickly, Cheryl helping Betty up the ladder at the end. Jughead came out last. After asking Cheryl to quietly take his bike to Riverdale and asking Kevin to take him and the blonde to the hospital, he walked over to Betty, who was reuniting with Veronica and Archie. 

“Betty,” Jughead said. She turned around. “Can we talk about what just happened?... Please?” Betty nodded slowly. Jughead turned to the rest of group and signaled for the bikers to head out. Cheryl took Jughead’s bike instead of Toni’s this time, and the Serpents left down the trail. 

As they walked back towards Kevin’s truck, he tried to hold her hand, but she pulled it away. Jughead sat on the back of Kevin’s flatbed after helping Betty up onto it. She was still shaking. 

“I know,” Jughead began. “I know what happened back there was a lot...” 

“Jughead, you held a pistol to my head,” Betty said. “A  _ cocked _ one. I heard the click.”

Jughead pulled out the pistol and held it in his hand. Betty gasped. 

“But--” she began. 

“It wasn’t cocked, Betty,” Jughead said. He got off of the flatbed and walked to the treeline, throwing it as hard as he could. Jughead turned back to Betty and sat back next to her. “I would  _ never _ put you in that kind of danger. I did it for the act. It had to be believable, Betty, I hope you understand that.” Betty nodded. 

“It wasn’t just that, either,” Betty said. “You were holding me tightly and--” 

“Again, just for the act. I’m sorry if I caused you any pain,” Jughead interrupted. He pulled up the door on the back of the flatbed, keeping Betty and himself inside it. He motioned to Kevin to start driving, and he did. 

“It wasn’t even something  _ you _ did, Jug,” Betty said. She paused and sighed. “I snooped around Sister Woodhouse’s office multiple times, using bobby pins to pick the locks. She caught me each time. I refused to accept her ‘counseling sessions’, where she berated me for everything I’ve done that my mom knows about...” She looked into his eyes with tears in her own. “I received punishments... Almost daily.” Betty choked up. They were beginning to pull out of the forest. 

“Like what?” Jughead asked. “What did they do to you?” Betty let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding and turned around. She peeled the red cardigan off of her shoulders.

Jughead saw blood stains on the light blue dress she wore. They were straight lines, mostly up and down, across her back. Her head turned over her shoulder. 

“They said that I needed to learn my lesson,” Betty said. “But I never did...” She choked up again and started crying. Her body shook in the cool night air, and Jughead pulled her back by the arm so she was facing him. He draped the red sweater over her shoulders once more, and pulled her into him, Betty’s head resting on his chest. Jughead took her hands in his own. 

After every traumatic experience that Betty went through, Jughead made it his business to check her palms. Jughead turned her hands over and saw the crescent moons there from her nails. 

“I’m sorry, Jughead,” she cried. “I could never tell when I was doing it...” 

“It’s okay, you’re okay.” He brought her hands to his lips and kissed each palm as Kevin pulled into the road. “I’m getting Kevin to drive you to the hospital so the doctors can look at you...” She nodded into his chest, tears still slipping out of her eyes.

“There were some days,” she began quietly. “There were days when I couldn’t sleep because of it. Some days I woke up multiple times during the night because of the pain... I couldn’t sleep on my back... I once fell off of my bed after trying to get up... It’s just been so hard, Jughead.”

“I had no idea you were even in there,” Jughead said. “Two weeks ago, Archie and I skipped town, trying to find him a safe place to stay... We went to a farm, then to Toledo where we saw my mom... Veronica called me today and said you were with the Sisters, so Archie and I came back as soon as we could to bust you out. Betty, I swear I thought you were safe here with your mom...”

“I don’t blame you for any of this, Jughead,” Betty replied with a sniffle. “Not at all. I blame my mom.”

“You can stay with me at Sunnyside.” Jughead paused. “You can  _ always _ stay with me at Sunnyside.” Betty nodded.

“Thanks, Jug,” Betty said. “But what about your dad? He handcuffed you to a fridge!” 

“He won’t put a hand on me if you’re around, Betty,” Jughead said. “He won’t.”

“Okay,” she agreed. “I’ll move in with you again.”

Jughead was angry with Alice Cooper. He  _ really _ wanted to kill her, but Jughead knew he wouldn’t do that. He didn’t have the soul to do that. That’s why Jughead tried to refuse the gun before he went to rescue Betty. The best he could do, realistically, was to make Alice as angry as he was. Jughead decided he wanted to disappoint Alice as much as he could because he wanted to see her unhappy. 

That meant single-handedly moving Betty out of the Cooper household and into the trailer. Jughead pictured the smug look on his face when Alice would come back to Riverdale, see her daughter had moved out, and realized she’d moved in with him. He could see the smug look on Betty’s face, too. 

And with that thought, Jughead’s head rested against Betty’s, who had fallen asleep on his shoulder. He drifted to sleep to the thought of never having to worry about Betty’s safety again because she’d be at his side. He thought of the pleasant view in the mornings as she slept next to him, safe in his arms. 

  
_ Safe _ , Jughead thought.  _ I will keep her safe _ .


	3. Fractured (3.07)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was the last thing he expected. 
> 
> Betty Cooper stood in front of him, a blue dress with a white collar, a red cardigan, and white shoes. She stared blankly at him, her mouth opened slightly. She had dirt all over her, and her hair was down and mussed. Jughead immediately saw a gash on her leg and arm, the blood almost dried. Her cardigan was ripped where the cut on her arm was. She didn’t say anything, but looked straight at him, trembling on his doorstep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPOILERS FOR 3.07
> 
> YOU'VE BEEN WARNED

Jughead had just gotten back from Toledo, forced into a bear hug by his father. He’d brought home his mom and sister, and FP had taken both of them out to Pop’s. Jughead Jones, who hadn’t gotten a response from Betty Cooper, said that he wasn’t hungry and insisted that Jellybean and Gladys go and get a bite of the burgers they hadn’t eaten in a long time. 

It wasn’t a lie, either. Jughead’s appetite was failing him for the first time in his life. He was sick to his stomach because the only time he could hear her voice was in her voicemail:  _ “Hi, this is Betty. Leave a message.” _ And even then, those were the only words she said. Jughead had tried to call several times while he was on the road with Archie: in payphones, on his own phone (which was now connected to a charger), and even in Toledo. 

On the way into town, Jughead stopped at the Cooper house, but no one was there. He wasn’t worried because he knew who Betty was: a serial killer-catching, expose-writing, sexy-as-hell badass. She’d taken his bike without a second thought, altered Warden Norton’s car, found the flash drive that held Jason Blossom’s murder tape, stood up to him about going to rescue Hot Dog, and was investigating the mysterious Gargoyle King. If there was anyone Jughead  _ shouldn’t _ be worried about, it was his lil’ Coop. 

Still, Jughead was calling her phone and leaving messages every thirty minutes. He timed this with the TV as one show would fade into another. Jughead checked his watch in the middle of an episode of  _ Family Feud _ . It was 8:23 PM. He sighed and ran his hand through his hair, his beanie sitting beside him. Jughead glanced at the green military duffel bag in the corner along with those of his mom and sister, untouched since his return. 

_ Maybe I should unpack, _ Jughead thought. He checked his phone.  _ No new notifications. _

If Betty wasn’t going to respond, he figured he should go ahead and unpack his stuff. Getting up and walking over to the bag, he heard a knock on the door. Guessing that it was his parents and sister returning from Pop’s, Jughead walked over and opened the door. 

It wasn’t his parents. 

Not even close.

It was the last thing he expected. 

Betty Cooper stood in front of him, a blue dress with a white collar, a red cardigan, and white shoes. She stared blankly at him, her mouth opened slightly. She had dirt all over her, and her hair was down and mussed. Jughead immediately saw a gash on her leg and arm, the blood almost dried. Her cardigan was ripped where the cut on her arm was. She didn’t say anything, but looked straight at him, trembling on his doorstep. 

_ She’s been at the Sisters of Quiet Mercy, _ he thought.  _ That’s why she didn’t respond to my phone calls. _

“Betty?” Jughead muttered. She didn’t respond or move. Jughead pinched himself, and realized that this was  _ not _ a dream, and that Betty Cooper was standing in front of him and wearing clothes from the Sisters of Quiet Mercy. Jughead waved his hand in front of her face, but her eyes stayed fixed on him. 

“Betty? Hello?” Jughead asked, snapping his fingers in front of her face. She didn’t flinch. 

“Well... Uh...” Jughead began, not quite knowing how to approach the situation. He reached down to her hand, not knowing if she was going to hit him or not, but he decided it was worth the risk. Jughead slipped his hand into hers. Betty’s cold fingers gently held to his hand. 

“Okay, I’m just going to get you inside, Betts,” Jughead whispered kindly. Betty didn’t respond as Jughead softly pulled her inside, shutting the door behind them. Still holding her hand, Jughead led her over to the couch, sitting her down where he had been. Her body was surprisingly stiff as she sat. Jughead sat on the floor in front of Betty, looking into her eyes and brushing a blonde lock from her face. 

“What have they done to you, Betty?” Jughead asked quietly. No response. 

“They’ve broken her,” he realized, a tear in his eye. “They broke my Betty.” He slumped back, leaning away from her, in shock that Betty could look so broken, so fractured. Jughead wasn’t sure her soul was still in her body by the way she looked blankly at him.

Jughead looked back at her, seeing the blood. He wondered if getting her out of those horrid clothes could change anything. 

“I’m going to get the first aid kit and some clothes for you,” Jughead said to her. She didn’t even twitch. “Stay right here, Betts.” Jughead got up slowly and walked into his room, grabbing a pair of flannel pajama pants, one of his t-shirts, and a pair of socks. He went into the bathroom and took the first aid kit out from under the sink. 

Beyond the bathroom, Jughead heard something coming from the other room. 

“J-J-Ju-J...” He heard Betty stutter. Startled, Jughead ran out of the bathroom, clothing and first aid kit in his arms, and stopped in the kitchen. He could see Betty sitting on the couch, looking at her lap, where she held his beanie in her hands. 

“Betty?” Jughead asked, approaching her with the clothing and medical supplies. “Is everything okay?” She looked up at him, her green stare connecting with his grey-blue eyes. 

“J-J... Juh... Jug-g...” She managed to say. Jughead dropped what he was holding, running over to her. 

“I’m right here,” he said, kneeling in front of her again. “I’m right here, Betts. You’re okay. You’re safe now.” She didn’t respond, but looked into his eyes as if she knew. “I brought some clothes... and I’m going to fix you up, Betty.” She didn’t respond again, but he went and picked up the things he dropped, then went back to her. 

Jughead opened the first aid kit first, and tended to the gash on her arm and leg. He used hydrogen peroxide to clean the blood away and to disinfect both before carefully wrapping her limbs in gauze. He smoothed tape over the end to hold the gauze in place. 

“There,” he said, his fingers lingering on the tape. Jughead looked up at the shell of a human that was Betty Cooper. She was looking down at him, slowly blinking. “I’m gonna get those clothes off you, Betty. Just a moment.” Jughead closed the kit back and pushed it away from himself. 

He looked back at Betty and began to carefully take off the dirty white shoes and socks on her feet. Jughead replaced them with a pair of light pink fuzzy socks that she’d left in his room a few weeks back. He was surprised to feel how cold she was. 

Jughead quickly slipped his flannel pants onto her legs, getting Betty to stand up so he could hitch up her skirt and tie them around her waist. They were naturally too long because of his height, but he knew they were warmer than whatever outfit the Sisters of Quiet Mercy gave their hostages. 

Jughead peeled the red cardigan from her shoulders as he’d done with Betty on more than one occasion, though their situation was much different and involved  _ both _ of them stripping in front of the other. Jughead got the collared dress off without too much difficulty and replaced it with one of his S t-shirts. 

When he was done, Jughead laid Betty back on the couch, wrapping her in a fluffy blanket. Betty was now relaxed enough so that she was no longer in shock. By the look on her face, Betty now understood that she was safe and far from the Sisters of Quiet Mercy. 

Jughead didn’t know what happened to his girlfriend while she was there, but he figured that they didn’t have his specialty grilled cheeses that he knew she liked. He started to cook one for her when Jughead heard Betty again. 

“J-Juh... Ju-g-g...” She muttered. Jughead stopped what he was doing and rushed to her side. She was sitting up. 

“What is it, baby?” Jughead asked. “What do you need, Betts?” She watched him kneel in front of her, then held out her arms. “I’m making you dinner. I don’t wanna burn it...” She insisted by keeping her arms out. Jughead sighed and stood up. Betty’s eyes followed him as he moved. 

“Okay.” Jughead picked her up, settling Betty on his hip. She wrapped her cold arms around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder. With another glance at his girlfriend, Jughead could tell she was content by the way she sighed. 

Jughead continued to make Betty’s grilled cheese as she clung to him. Just as a precaution, Jughead also reheated what was left of Betty’s tomato soup from their last date at Pop’s. 

Jughead knew she enjoyed the simplicity of melted American cheese on toasted bread with a cup of tomato soup. She didn’t always get that at Pop’s, though. She liked to mix it up between the cheeseburgers, fries, milkshakes, and orange freezes. Jughead knew this. 

There had been several nights when Betty would call Jughead in the middle of the night and ask him to meet her at Pop’s, where she would order a basket of fries for them both, just so she could be in his presence. When she was stressed, she would call Jughead, meet him at Pop’s and order a cheeseburger and a milkshake. For their dinner or investigation dates, she would get a tomato soup and grilled cheese with an orange freeze. 

Jughead knew her orders by heart so that the food would be at their table about a minute before Betty would walk through the door. He was at the point where he would never have to ask which order she wanted: he could just _ tell _ . 

Jughead could have called Pop Tate and asked him to make Betty a cheeseburger or a basket of fries, but he figured Betty would be happier with his grilled cheese, since he could make one from scratch. 

He’d learned to make them when he realized that Betty also craved grilled cheeses when she was at her most irritable. That one week out of the month, Jughead would be at his Queen’s bidding: chocolate, sanitary products, Pop’s, anything she wanted. When Jughead didn’t feel like crossing the Northside’s border, he started making her his own grilled cheeses. 

The smell of toasted goodness was starting to fill up the trailer, tempting Jughead’s nostrils. 

_ No, _ he thought as he put the sandwich on a plate.  _ This isn’t for me. _ He always had to tell himself that when making food for Betty so that he wouldn’t eat it himself. 

Jughead, Betty clinging to his side, put the plated grilled cheese and reheated tomato soup on the table. He swiftly placed Betty in a chair, then sat across from her. 

“ _Bon appetit_ ,” Jughead mocked in his worst French. He knew she’d taken it throughout high and middle school and that she was very meticulous about pronunciation. Instead of correcting him like she usually did, Betty just reached over and held onto his sleeve. 

“Betty?” He asked. “It’s your favorite, eat up.” No response. “Baby?” Betty looked up at him and tilted her head to the side. Jughead sighed. “What did they do to you?” 

“Candy,” she muttered. That was the first time she said a word since he’d found her. 

“Candy?” Jughead asked. “Do you want some--”   
  


“No!” she shouted, wincing. Jughead was startled. 

“Betty?” Jughead asked, taking her hand. “Was it--”

“ _ Bad _ candy...” she mumbled. “Bad candy...” She pointed to her temple. 

“Fizzle rocks...” Jughead whispered. He’d done a bit of digging while in Athens and Toledo: fizzle rocks were gaining ground, much quicker than jingle jangle had. 

“No!” Betty yelled again, running towards the couch. Jughead caught Betty around her waist and pulled her to his chest. 

“They gave you drugs as candy...” He whispered. Betty nodded, understanding exactly what he was saying. “Oh, Betts... I’m so sorry. There’s none of that here.” She nodded into his shoulder again. Jughead picked Betty up so she was straddling him. Her arms were clasped around the back of his neck as Jughead walked over to the couch, sitting down with Betty on his lap. 

Jughead pushed a curl away from her face as she stared blankly past him. 

“Betty?” Jughead asked. There was no response. He sighed; they were back to phase one.

Betty refused to speak again no matter what he tried: kissing her forehead, burying his face into her shoulder, speaking to her to try an coax her back, but nothing worked. He tried to get her to eat, but she wouldn’t, so Jughead sat Betty on the couch and ate the grilled cheese and tomato soup while he watched her sit. She blankly stared at the TV. 

When Jughead was done eating, he tried sitting next to Betty, holding her hand, letting her lay on top of him, detangling her hair and twirling it around his slender finger, but to no avail. Betty was cold to the touch and wouldn’t fall asleep or say anything to him. 

Jughead didn’t know how someone could possibly break Betty Cooper. She’d been through so much: adderall, self harm, anxiety, a seizure, her father turning out to be a serial killer, that same father manipulating her over the phone, she lived with an impostor that killed her brother, she’d been slut shamed in front of a crowd at his birthday party, and she was mentally abused by her mom. Jughead thought about this as she laid between his legs, his fingers gently untangling her blonde hair. 

“What’s going on inside your head?” He asked rhetorically. “They’ve drugged you, and traumatized you, and broken you, but you managed to escape...” He paused. “They must have  _ forced _ those fizzle rocks down your throat.” There was no response. 

“I know you would never willingly do gutter drugs. You refused jingle jangle from Nick St. Clair at his party when everyone else was taking it.” Betty still didn’t respond. “And how do I get you back? How can I find the soul of my Betty Cooper? I know she’s in there somewhere. She’s trying to talk to me, I can tell by the way she stuttered my name.” 

Jughead sat up and saw that though Betty was lying between his legs, she was still staring wide-eyed at her surroundings. He got her to sit up and lean her back against him. Jughead hugged Betty around the torso, burying his nose in her hair and neck. When he didn’t hear her giggle like she usually did when he did this, his heart sunk. 

“Where are you, Betty?” He asked, tears in his eyes. “Come back to me, baby...”

“J-Juh... J-Ju-gg-i-e...” 

Jughead quickly flipped Betty around, sitting her on top of his lap. 

“Talk to me, baby. I know you’re in there,” he coaxed, pushing a curl out of her eyes. 

But she didn’t say anything else. Betty stared straight at the wall behind him. 

“Damnit,” he muttered, realizing how close he’d gotten, and how it slipped away from him so quickly. 

“What can I do?” Jughead cried, warm tears running down his cheeks and escaping from his eyes. “What can I do to get you back, Betty?” Jughead pulled her in close, resting his forehead on her shoulder and sighing deeply as he let the tears roll down his face. 

“I need to know,” Jughead’s voice cracked. He pulled himself away from her shoulder. Jughead placed his hand on the side of her face, directing her emerald green eyes towards his own. Betty blinked a few times, letting her eyes wander around his face. 

“J-Jug-h-head...” she whispered. 

“Yes, yes, I’m here! I’m right here!” Jughead exclaimed. She didn’t respond again. He was becoming frustrated with the situation. He knew it wasn’t Betty’s fault, but the Sisters of Quiet Mercy’s. Still gazing into Betty’s glassy eyes, Jughead whispered, “ _ I love you,  _ Elizabeth Cooper.” 

This triggered her hands to move between them. She slowly uncurled her fingers, revealing her palms. 

He saw that there were seemingly fresh marks on her palms from digging her nails in. Jughead could tell that she hadn’t harmed herself that night, but probably the day before. The crescent moons were scabbed up, her scars from previous months still evident. 

Jughead looked up at her, but she was staring at her palms.  _ The Sisters of Quiet Mercy made her want to start doing it again _ . Jughead took each hand in his own, bringing the fresher cuts to his lips. He kissed each palm softly, then both of her hands together. 

“I still love you, Betty,” Jughead said, looking up at her. Betty’s arms slid over his shoulders and her eyes became fixed to his own. 

_ This was working. _

And suddenly, Jughead had an idea. He snaked one arm around her back and his other hand cupped her cheek. 

Jughead directed her lips to his. 

He didn’t ever want to let go. He sighed when they connected. 

And then something changed. 

Betty’s body relaxed and her fingers found their way into his hair at the nape of his neck. 

She slid forward, getting closer to Jughead as she melted into him. 

Jughead clasped his hand around her torso, keeping her close to him. 

After what felt like forever, Jughead pulled back slowly. He caringly looked into her eyes. She blinked a few times. 

“Jughead,” she whispered. 

“Betty?” Jughead asked, surprised she didn’t stutter his name. 

“What?” She asked. 

“Are you...” 

“Jug, what are you--” She stopped, placing a hand on his chest. “Wait.” 

“Betty...” 

“How the  _ hell _ did I get in here?!” Betty asked. Jughead was in shock that she was suddenly able to string sentences together. “Not that I don’t mind being here, Jug. You know that.” 

“Of course I know that,” Jughead replied. “Come here,” he added. Betty hugged him. 

Jughead couldn’t explain how happy he was that Betty was actually responding to him now. Her body seemed to warm up after she’d escaped her trance, and she held him tightly this time. To be able to hide his face in her neck while she knew he was doing it was cathartic. Jughead didn’t quite know how he did it, but he got his Betty Cooper back.

“I’ll tell you everything later, I promise,” Betty whispered. “Everything I found, everything that happened that I can remember...” 

“You were seriously shaken when you showed up,” Jughead muttered into her collarbone. “Take as much time as you need.” 

“It will help in our investigation, but I don’t think I’m ready to relive it again, Jug,” she said. 

“Then you wait until you’re ready, Betts,” he replied. “Take your time, let yourself recover. That investigation can wait.” 

“Can it, though?” Betty asked. 

“Aren’t we the ones investigating it?” Jughead asked. “We can take as much time as we want.” He paused, pulling himself away from her so he could look into her eyes. “I’m not saying we have forever, Betty. We don’t. But, we can take a break for a little bit so you can recover. We can take as much time as you need.” 

“You’re sure?” Betty asked.

“Absolutely,” Jughead replied. “Part of this relationship that we have here is making sure the other is okay. I tried to call you  _ so many times _ . I actually left town with Archie for a bit, and I had no idea that you weren’t safe. But I knew you, and I knew you could get through whatever anyone throws at you.” He paused. “And I swear, Betty, if I had known you were trapped at that place, I would have turned around immediately.” He stopped. “I’d rather make sure you’re in the right mindset to continue the investigation before jumping back in it full force and having you be overwhelmed.” 

“That’s why I love you, Jughead,” Betty replied. Jughead paused.

“Say it again,” he whispered. 

“I love you,” she repeated, grinning. Jughead held Betty’s face in his hands, pressing his forehead against hers.

“I love you too,” he whispered before connecting their lips once more. 

Betty was able to fall asleep on Jughead that night as he whispered in her ear. He spoke mostly of what Jellybean and his mom were like now, years after leaving him and his dad for Toledo. Betty was able to fall asleep to the lull of Jughead’s husky voice. Jughead already knew that this was the most consistent way he could get Betty to slip into sleep, even on her worst nights.

The couple lay on the couch, Betty’s legs entwined with Jughead’s, as if they were branches growing into each other. Her arms were wrapped around his torso tightly, partly afraid to let go and partly afraid to be torn away from her boyfriend. Betty could hear Jughead’s heartbeat thumping away, her ear on his chest. 

Once Betty was asleep, Jughead draped a blanket over her body, trying to keep her warm. He had an arm protectively placed around her back, ready to fend off any intruder trying to whisk her away again. He kept his eyes open as long as he could before drifting away himself. 

When FP, Jellybean, and Gladys came back an hour later, FP made sure to tell his wife and daughter about how Betty and Jughead were dating. He mostly told them that Betty staying over with Jughead for comfort’s sake was normal, as it had been over the previous summer. Jellybean took Jughead’s room that night, and Gladys bunked with FP, no matter her resentments towards him; she wasn’t going to wake her sleeping son and his girlfriend.

As FP turned off the TV, he noticed the first aid kit (still open and sprawled on the floor), the blue dress and red cardigan, and the way that Jughead held Betty. Jughead, sensing a presence in the room while still asleep, rolled over so his back was facing his father and his body was shielding his girlfriend. 

FP figured that something happened to Betty, and that Jughead was naturally just being protective. FP took a blanket from the opposite couch and covered his son and Betty with it. After all this time, FP never worried about Betty staying over with Jughead anymore. He knew it was always because she just needed the comfort of her boyfriend.

It was fitting of him now to not ask questions or wake them, so he went back to his room after cutting off all of the lights. Even in the morning, FP refused to ask questions when Betty was constantly around Jughead and the trailer.

FP had no clue what was going on, but he realized whatever it was must have been quite harrowing for Betty Cooper. Therefore, he was proud to say that Betty was staying with him, his son, his daughter, and his wife. 

He didn’t ask questions when Betty suddenly had a duffel bag with clothes in it, and he definitely didn’t ask questions when she woke up early to make them all breakfast. FP learned to pay no mind when he heard Betty and Jughead awake in the middle of the night, him shushing her and lulling Betty back to sleep. He didn’t ask when Jellybean would offer Betty some candy and she refused quickly. 

He did once ask Jughead why he and Betty both went in the bathroom together when she showered. Sighing and putting down his book, Jughead answered.

“Betty has been through something truly terrible, dad. She won’t tell me what exactly yet, but she feels trapped in that tiny bathroom when she takes a shower. I sit on the floor and talk to her while she washes up so she knows I’m still with her. We just talk.”

Even when Alice Cooper showed up at their trailer, demanding to have her daughter back, Jughead protected her. Seeing that Betty was important to his son, FP butted in.

“I’m going to have to ask you to leave, Alice,” he said. “Betty doesn’t want to go anywhere with you and she’s obviously been through something terrifying because of you. Back off.”

So she left. And no one asked what it was about. 

The Jones family knew that something as harrowing as what Betty went through was something not to be touched. 

Even with the Gargoyle King moving through the shadows, traces of fizzle rocks being shoved down her throat, and Sister Woodhouse haunting her mind, Betty was able to sleep peacefully in Jughead’s arms.


	4. i’m alright (just bruised) - 3.08-09

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jughead sneaks around the quarantine only to speed off to the Cooper house, where he finds out more than he bargained for.

The rumble of an engine was all that could be heard on the dark streets of Riverdale. The sound flew past the Whyte Wyrm first, then the remains of Southside High, over the Sweetwater River, past Riverdale High School, and Pop’s. The motorcyclist wished for nothing more than a warm smile and one of his favorite burgers, but he had other business to attend to. 

Jughead Jones’ bike slowed to a crawl as he entered the Northside suburbs. This was the neighborhood of so-called “perfection.” Jughead knew it was all a facade for the rest of the town. He should know a thing about false projected images. He grew up in what was deemed the “rough neighborhood” but he knew that the Serpents and Sunnyside Trailer Park were better than their reputation. 

Jughead knew the layout of the suburbs like the back of his hand, but most importantly, he knew how to get in and out discreetly. He was so good at it that he’d often been smug about it, earning many playful punches on the arm from Betty. She was, after all, the reason he was now stalking down the streets on his motorcycle and why he’d skipped on Pop’s. He had a hunger for something else tonight and a milkshake simply wouldn’t do the trick. 

She hadn’t answered his calls. Not one. That’s why he was on his way to her. Betty hadn’t seemed to pick up the phone since before he skipped town with Archie. Jughead knew her number by heart, and there was no way that he could have typed it in wrong. It was as if she’d engraved her cell phone number in his skin since the day she gifted it to him. Calling Betty was such a routine process that he didn’t even need to have her number tattooed on him to remember it. If, at this point in their relationship, he needed to write her phone number on his arm to remember it, there would be problems. 

With a guilty glance over his shoulder, Jughead laid his eyes on Archie Andrews’ house. Trying to avoid that particular hole in his chest filled with guilt, Jughead continued. He still wasn’t too sure about leaving Archie to go into Canada, but the redhead decided otherwise. 

Shaking off the pang of sadness radiating from his best friend’s home, Jughead saw the Cooper house next door. He shut off his bike all the way, so as to make no noise. He knew too well that Alice Cooper was not the right sleeping lion to poke with a stick. Jughead walked his bike to the side of the house like he always did, seeing that Hal Cooper’s trusty ladder was still aligned to Betty’s window. He truly believed that buying said ladder was the only good decision Hal ever made. 

Resting his bike against the fence that separated Archie and Betty’s yards, Jughead took off his helmet, placed it on the seat of the motorcycle, then stepped up to the ladder. Looking skyward, Jughead could see a lamp light on in Betty’s room. 

_ Jackpot, _ he thought, beginning to climb. He slowly made his way up each metal rung, attempting to be as quiet as possible. He kept looking out for Alice, but she never came by the time he reached the top. 

With a relieved sigh that Mama Coop hadn’t made an appearance, Jughead looked inside Betty’s room. Everything looked normal. The wallpaper, the items on her dresser, he could even see his girlfriend’s pastel comforter neat as it usually was. The lamp next to her bed was on, which meant she was in the house (as Mrs. Cooper hated paying power bills that were a cause of wasted energy). 

Figuring she was in bed with a book, Jughead rapped on the window with his knuckles. Then he waited. And waited. And waited. He tried calling Betty’s cell phone but there was no response. 

Jughead began to get too impatient and tried to lift the window open himself. At first, there wasn’t a good hold on it from the outside. Once he was able to slip his fingers under, the Serpent King was able to push the window open. He clambered up onto the window seat, kicking his legs out so he was sitting on the bench. Jughead shut the window behind him, locking it. 

“Betty?” Jughead asked, looking around the room. Her bed was empty and straightened. There was no sign that anyone had touched the room since turning on the lamp. 

Figuring she would be back soon, Jughead took another glance around the room, eyes landing on Betty’s vanity. When he trailed his sight over the mirror, he saw a few polaroids taped to the reflective glass. There was one of Archie and Betty when they were young. In another picture stood Betty and Veronica in their River Vixens’ uniforms (he smirked when he saw this one, wondering if she still had the outfit). 

Upon a further glance, Jughead realized that the rest of the pictures on Betty’s vanity were of the two of them. There was one from homecoming in sophomore year, Jughead in his dark suit and Betty dressed almost like Cinderella. He was looking at her as if she hung the stars in the sky. Another polaroid showed them by Sweetwater River with Archie, taken by Veronica. There was a picture of Jughead putting Betty’s Serpent Jacket on her for the first time. 

_ Boy, _ did Betty Cooper look hot in the black leather with the Serpent logo on her back. The snake told anyone who saw her that she belonged to the Southside Serpents. To  _ him. _ She was his most prized possession, though he didn’t want to objectify her. Betty was more than she let on, and definitely more than some sort of a prize to be won. Jughead knew that. There was just something he loved, something almost primal, about leaving his mark on her via leather jacket. 

As he looked over to Betty’s closet, he saw her jacket hanging up. He thought it looked quite out of place next to her other pastel tops and shirts. Upon a further glance, he caught sight of another garment on a hanger. 

“Is that my t-shirt?” He asked himself. Before he could go and see for sure, the door leading to the rest of the house opened. Jughead jumped back, but watched as someone whirled around and shut the door behind them, still facing the panel of wood painted white. 

_ It can’t be, _ Jughead thought.  _ No, this isn’t happening. _

He recognized her figure and the clothes she was wearing. His deepest fear had been confirmed. 

She was bearing down on the door, holding it shut. She sighed, then turned around, walking further into the room. Her evidently tired eyes trailed the ground, just waiting to get out of those  _ awful _ clothes. She stopped when her eyes locked on the pair of combat boots in front of her. Her vision moved up until forest green clashed with blue. 

She immediately jumped into his arms, holding Jughead close. He wrapped his arms around her in return. 

“Oh my god,” she mumbled against his ear repeatedly. “I didn’t think you were real.” 

Jughead didn’t ask any questions, he simply melded into her. He allowed himself to rest his face on her shoulder, inhaling Betty’s scent. He was delighted to know that even after being in that horrible place, his girlfriend still gave warm hugs and smelled like lavender. 

“I should have come back sooner. I should have come back,” he whispered guiltily. “I called you from a payphone and you didn’t answer. I should have come back.” 

“Wait,” she mumbled, allowing herself to slide back to the ground. She looked into Jughead’s stormy eyes, glassy with threatening tears. “Where did  _ you _ go?” 

“It doesn’t matter, Betty, I should have been  _ here. _ Protecting  _ you. _ My girlfriend, the love of my life. I--” 

“Don’t do that, Jughead,” she said. “Don’t spiral on me.” Betty placed her palm on his cheek, soothing him with her touch. 

“I was with Archie. We skipped town for the past month--” 

“Then there’s nothing you could have done,” Betty replied. “I was in the Sisters for the past month. Possibly since the same day you left.” 

“But that doesn’t matter. I should have been here to bust you out!” 

“I got out all on my own once I got the information I needed. You know too well what I’m capable of, Jug.” 

“I shouldn’t have stayed in Toledo for so long, I—“

“You saw your mom?” Betty asked. Jughead stopped in his tracks. The simplicity of the question aligned with the calming sensation of her fingers drawing swirls in the hair at the back of his head soothed him.

“Yeah. I did. Jellybean too.”

“How are they?” 

“Jellybean is a badass. She’s a sharpshooter with that slingshot you got for her forever ago.” 

“Glad to hear she still uses it,” Betty giggled. “And your mom?” 

“She has a branch of the Serpents in Toledo. They do a lot of work on cars and stuff. Jelly too. You’d know all about that.” 

“Ugh it’s been so long since I’ve been able to get my hands dirty and work on an engine. I’m jealous,” Betty said. Jughead chuckled. 

“Archie... um...”

“I’m sure he’s far away from here,” she said. “Isn’t he?” He only nodded. 

“It may be some time until he’s able to live next door again, Betts. I know you’ve been best friends for forever and a minute.” 

“As long as he’s safe,” she said. “Where did he go, anyways?” 

“Canada, I’m pretty sure. He went north and I came back just now.” 

“I got home about an hour ago,” Betty said. “I busted not only myself, but all of the kids out of the Sisters of Quiet Mercy. They had nowhere else to go, so they’re settled in my living room. I was finally able to get them to sleep.” 

Jughead had an idea. He placed his hands on her hips, pulling Betty’s pelvis into his. 

“So... you’re  _ off duty _ for the night?” He asked, biting his lip. She cupped his face with both hands, showing a shy smile. 

“Skip the foreplay and just  _ kiss _ me already like I know you wa—“ 

Jughead sealed their lips together in a bruising kiss, passion and lust coursing through it. Little by little, he felt their mouths begin to move as one, taking each other in breathlessly. He lifted her up slowly, Betty’s legs on either side of his waist. He directed them over to the bed, sitting his blonde beauty on the clean comforter. 

Clothes were thrown about the room almost immediately. Jeans, shirts, dresses, and red cardigans were peeled from each other’s bodies and tossed to the side, deemed irrelevant and distracting. Jughead was particularly eager to get that horrid blue dress and red sweater off of Betty’s beautiful body. He didn’t feel guilty at all when he quite literally tore Betty’s dress off of her. In his defense, she was torturing him with her soft moans when he touched her. This was revenge at its finest. 

For Betty, it was that worn leather jacket that had to go first. He was too tempting already. With that Serpent jacket that made him square his shoulders while he wore it, Jughead was irresistible. 

They shed clothing until they were each left in their undergarments, Jughead hovering over Betty, kissing her neck and collarbone. He placed a hand on her waist and the other on her wrist, moving their hands above her head, pinned down to the mattress. 

Betty winced and gasped. 

“Ah—“

“Betts,” he breathed, coming up for air to look her in the eyes. A single tear was welling up in her emerald eyes, and he took his hands off of her, pulling away and stumbling back. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I’m so sorry.” He held his hands up, in a sort of surrender. Betty jumped off of her bed, rushing over to him. 

“Jug— Jug, this isn’t your fault. Stop. Stop spiraling.” She held his face in her hands. “Shh... you’re overreacting. Stop.” He calmed at her touch and looked into her eyes. “I’m a little sore there, I’m sorry for scaring you.” 

“W-What?” Jughead asked, peeling a hand off of his face to hold in his hand. He turned it over to reveal her palm, healing crescent wounds in her skin. “Betty... oh, Betts... you didn’t...” 

“I-I couldn’t control it in that madhouse, Jughead. It’s not only that, though. They—“ she immediately broke off. 

“Betty.” He regained her attention. “Tell me, baby.” 

“They’re testing drugs on patients at the Sisters.  _ Fizzle rocks _ .” 

“Don’t tell me—“

“I didn’t take them willingly,” Betty admitted. “They had to—“ she split off again in a small sob, turning her head away. Jughead caught her with his open hand and pulled her gaze back to him. “They forced them down my throat, Juggie,” she whimpered. 

Jughead, not knowing what else to do, wrapped Betty up in his arms. He held her as she cried into his lean, bare chest and he felt when she put her shaky arms around him. He stroked her head and hair lovingly. 

“After that I-I took them willingly, but I made myself throw them up every time. I’m still s-sore from the first time they—“

“Shh... it’s okay. You’re safe. No one is gonna force any more of that gutter shit down your throat.” She let out a heavier sob and held him tighter. “Where does it hurt, Betts?” 

“T-They pinned me against the wall and—“

“Where?” 

“M-My wrists, my back, my hips—“

“Shh...” she was still crying through her explanation. “Is that all?” 

“I think so...” she muttered. 

“How about we put our clothes on and just cuddle for the rest of the night? What do you think?” He asked. She nodded from inside his embrace. 

“Okay,” he replied. “I’ll go get some pajamas for you, hmm?” She nodded again. He walked her back to her bed, sitting her down before taking a T-shirt from her closet and a pair of nightshorts from her dresser. 

“Somehow I know your room better than my own,” he said, bringing her the clothes. She chuckled lightly. 

Jughead helped Betty get dressed and tucked in before he found his T-shirt and climbed into the other side of her bed. 

“Your bed is so soft, Betts. I wanna stay here forever.” He grabbed her waist with a feather like touch and pulled her into him as she let a giggle escape from her lips. He wrapped his arms around her abdomen, holding her close, as she reached a hand to the lamplight, turning it off. Betty folded her hands on Jughead’s before leaning back and whispering in his ear. 

“I love you, Juggie.” 

“I love you too, Betty,” he replied, kissing the base of her neck as they both fell asleep, content in each other’s arms.


	5. (i always knew) i'd go back to you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your fingers brushed her soft skin, keeping a strong, yet comforting, grip on her waist, on her side, under her thigh, wherever you believed it fit like a puzzle piece. Before you did anything you asked her for permission, and she did the same. It had been a bit awkward at first, but you were both soon smiling into your kisses and softly moaning each other’s names in delight. 
> 
> (Missing Bughead moment from 2.12)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really need to be writing my WIP but I had a drabble in my head that I couldn't stop thinking about, so here it is. 
> 
> It's not too long, but I said what I wanted to say so it's a success.

Your first time was after Veronica’s confirmation. You asked her to stay, and stay she did. She said she wanted all of you. You wanted all of her beautiful, luscious skin, her never-ending legs, her pillowy lips pressed against yours and the rest of your skin, her creamy skin under your tongue, under your fingertips. 

Neither of you hadn’t really known what you were doing. Your only sexual experiences were with her, and hers were with you. You both knew enough about the topic and about each other to make it enjoyable. You’d been safe, as there was no other way you nor her would allow anything to happen. 

Your fingers brushed her soft skin, keeping a strong, yet comforting, grip on her waist, on her side, under her thigh, wherever you believed it fit like a puzzle piece. Before you did anything you asked her for permission, and she did the same. It had been a bit awkward at first, but you were both soon smiling into your kisses and softly moaning each other’s names in delight. 

After she said she wanted you, you stood up with her, letting her pastel pink dress and your blue button-up shirt hit the ground before picking her up and nearly sprinting to the bed. Lips still locked, you laid her down, pushing both of you towards the headboard of the bed until her blonde curls were sprawled over a pillow and her head was comfortable. 

You continued to undress yourselves and burrow under the covers, rough, passionate kisses landing wherever you pleased. Her neck, her lips, her chest, her shoulder, her knuckles, her forehead, her abdomen, everywhere. 

As you were working on your pants, she’d righted herself, pushing herself to your height, both on your knees. She circled her arms around your neck and sucked on your neck gently, slowly, until you were able to get your pants off. It was harder, you admit, because the sensation had been mind-numbing, distracting you from your original mission. You paid her back by doing the same as you unhooked her pastel bra before you both tumbled back onto the bed. 

Her body was a glorious vision, and you knew it would be. She thought yours was beautiful too. Fingers scrambled through hair, gripping the back of each others’ heads as you kissed deeply. When you were both ready, longing for the intimacy to begin, it was the most amazing thing either of you had ever experienced. You went in gently, so as not to hurt her. You’ve seen her hurt before and you never wanted to see her in pain again. 

You watched as her eyes darkened to a forest green and rolled back into her head for a moment. She sighed in pleasure and cupped your cheek as you allowed yourself to adjust to the amazing sensation. You’d barely begun, but every touch was like fire, there were fireworks behind your eyelids every time you blinked or shut your eyes only momentarily. You asked her if she was okay, and she said she’d never been better. 

You started to move as you leaned down to kiss her lips. Her hands came up to rest in your hair, keeping your mouth against hers, tongues dancing to your internal tune. Her breathy gasps against your lips were like gasoline to a fire when you’d thrust a little sharper, just to throw her off. When her nails raked against your scalp, you growled into her neck and continued to pound into her. 

When you became more sporadic with your movements, her insides began to flutter around you and her hands moved to your back, nails digging into and scratching your shoulder blades. You took one hand away forcefully, pinning it to the mattress with your own, just above her head. You interlocked your fingers and pressed your palms together as your pace increased. Her hips bucked and met your erratic thrusts, her creamy, long legs wrapped around your waist. With heavy breathing picking up between you, the air became thick with love, trust, and want. 

You went down on her neck as she let you know that she was close. 

“I know,” you said. 

“Take it,” she told you as you licked the sweat off of her. “Take what you need from me.” 

She’d already given you the world. What more could you ever ask for? 

She was your love, your light in the darkness, your hope, your everything. She’d given you your first actual relationship, her love, her devotion, her trust. She’d let you have your way with her tonight, access to her most vulnerable state. You’d done the same in return. 

You felt her grip tighten, one hand in yours, the other in your hair. Her chest arched off of the bed, slamming into you as she hit nirvana. She moaned loudly in your ear, and the sensation against your body made you reach oblivion, too. You rode out your highs slowly as she muttered: “I love you,” over and over again. It was a mantra, a poem on repeat. You muttered the same in between kisses planted on her face and neck. 

When both of you had been milked dry, your collective breathing had almost returned to normal, though your eyes were still clouded by lust. You’d let go of her hand a few minutes ago, and that same hand was stroking your cheek as you pulled out of her, discarded the condom, and fell next to her. You both stared at the ceiling, smiling like fools, holding hands right beside each other. 

Only one thing tumbled from her lips. 

“Wow,” she breathed. 

“Really?” you asked. 

“Yeah...  _ God, _ that was good.” 

Your faces turned towards each other. Emerald green clashed with sapphire blue. 

She was positively glowing, and you were sure that you were too by the way she was looking at you. She had a calm, genuine smile on her face that told you that you’d given her the world tonight. This was the most relaxed you’d seen her in awhile. You were in love with the look on her face, the one that reassured you that it wasn’t only good for you tonight, but good for her too. She was telling the truth. 

And you were smug about it, too. The patented smug grin was plastered on your face like the drywall in her house. Soon, the smugness went away and you were simply smiling at her. She held her lip between her teeth, keeping her smile on her face. 

Your Juliet was in a state of peace, her face lit up because of her Romeo. Her golden curls shone in the crack of light that came from the inside of the trailer. You could get used to this, gazing at her after you’ve made love to each other. 

She placed a hand in your fluffy black hair and played with it, making it go in all directions. You smiled at the feeling and the loving gesture.

“I missed you,” she told you. 

“Me too.” 

“Does this count as saying that we’re together again?” 

“If it didn’t, I’d be worried,” you said to her. 

She giggled, adding a sense of light to the dark room. You loved that giggle. You missed that about her, too. 

“I would love nothing more than if you would allow me to love you again.” 

“Who said I stopped allowing you to love me?” she asked you. You were speechless. “I never stopped loving you. And judging by tonight, you didn’t stop loving me, either.” 

“I never stopped,” you told her, reaching over to push a blonde curl behind her ear. “I always knew that we would find our way back.” 

“I want this with you,” she told you. “It’s obvious that we both want this.” 

“I agree,” you replied. 

“Just... I want to be part of your life.” 

“Agreed,” you said. “I love you too much to let you go again. We won’t make the same mistakes.” You took her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. You were both quiet for a few minutes. 

“How did I ever live without you?” she asked you. 

“I wasn’t myself without you,” you told her. “You know that.” 

“Yeah...” she replied. “I wasn’t myself without you, either.” 

You excused yourself and picked up your phone to check the time. 

“Shit, I’ve gotta get you home,” you said, looking over at her and putting the phone down again. She shook her head, blonde curls moving ever so slightly with her. 

When you rolled onto your back again, she’d shuffled into your side, fingers walking themselves across your abdomen to hold onto you. 

“This is home,” she told you, placing her head on your chest. You hold the back of her head in your hand. “Just a little while longer.” 

And you couldn’t argue with that. 


	6. the mercy kidnapping (of my goddaughter)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SPOILERS: 3x19 of Riverdale
> 
> Betty takes action after learning interesting news about Evelyn and Edgar. 
> 
> An alternate ending to 3x19 because I felt somewhat robbed of this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This wasn't proofread, but I think it's okay for the most part.

Immediately after she called Toni, Betty was speeding over to what used to be the Sisters of Quiet Mercy, but was now the headquarters of the Farm. She honestly didn’t know which was better: the building being used to incarcerate “troubled youths” or the building being bought with her stolen college fund and was now being used to house her mother (who had basically abandoned her to find her own housing) and sister. The blonde was living with one of her best friends, Veronica, at the Pembrooke, but that never stopped her from spending the night with Jughead in the house she once called her own. At least her mom hadn’t taken the station wagon, Betty thought, as she continued the drive. 

After finding out from Ms. Weiss that Evelyn was not sixteen, as she had told everyone at school, Betty had panicked. This woman, who was pretending to be ten years her junior, was actually married to Edgar, the man that had been posing as her father and was now trying to marry Alice and adopt Polly’s twins. None of that made sense. Polly was the mother of Juniper and Dagwood, and even though Betty and Penelope had been able to get Dagwood away, Juniper was still trapped inside the walls her stolen college money bought. 

That little girl, a little over a year old now, did not deserve a life in a cult. Her brother had been rescued, thank God, but Betty would be able to sleep at night if she could just get her niece out of that environment. That’s why she called Toni. She needed to get Juniper out of there. 

Betty was nowhere near ready to take Juniper in and raise her. She knew that, but she didn’t care. Taking care of Juniper by herself rather than letting Polly or her mother take the young girl into the cult sounded like a much better idea. Betty had Veronica’s support, even if she had been around Archie a lot in the past few days, which meant that she had access to a very valuable resource: money (one of the most crucial parts in aid of raising a child). 

Even so, Betty still needed to get her goddaughter out of the building first. She had found one of Polly’s old car seats that she had used for the twins before she had moved to the Farm, along with her mother and some of her friends. Betty, always the prepared one, had secured it in the backseat before she took off. She was anything if not concerned for the girl’s safety. 

Now, Betty found herself creeping to a halt a good distance from the building itself. This was a stealth mission, and what would be the use if she just revealed herself to the entire cult? Quietly shutting off the emission, Betty released her seatbelt as it zipped back to where it usually sat, opened the car door, and stepped out of the vehicle, closing the driver’s door only rough enough to make sure it was closed. She locked the station wagon behind her, scanning the grounds for any sign of life. She saw none but a pink-haired teen opening the front door quietly and motioning towards her. Betty picked up the pace and caught the door from Toni’s hand. 

“Thanks,” she whispered, letting the door close gently behind her. 

“No problem, Betty Snooper,” she replied. Betty smiled at the nickname, but did not respond. “Let’s go get that kid.” The blonde nodded, and they began on their way. 

Wandering through the darkened halls of the former reformatory, Betty felt almost nauseated. She remembered the way she was forced to dress, to act, to think. She thought of the way those fizzle rocks had been forced down her throat and the way that the simple gargoyle statue had looked like so much more than it truly was. She remembered throwing up the drugs after her first experience, making herself seem like she was one of those that was actually being “helped” by the teachings. Every time she came back here, it was like this: bad memories on replay. 

She came back to where she was when she remembered what she was here for: the last member of her family that hadn’t been corrupted by crime or by cults. Her little niece, her goddaughter. Juniper Cooper was locked in a nursery somewhere, and Toni was leading her straight to where she needed to be. 

They were quick on their feet, making their way down the halls faster than Betty had expected. Toni was in all white, helping her to keep up the act and becoming a double agent. They made quick conversation back and forth pertaining to Betty’s rescue, but not much else was said. 

When they finally made it to the nursery door, Toni removed a bobby pin (a woman of her own heart, Betty thought to herself) and used it to unlock the deadbolt. 

Toni muttered something about: “You know what they say... it takes a village to mercy kidnap a child.” She let Betty in and the blonde rushed to the white crib, looking over the girl in question. 

Juniper had been woken by Betty’s entrance and was now displaying the Cooper-patented green eyes: the same as Polly and Hal, and even herself. She had a pink cotton beanie on her head, reminding Betty of herself and how she must have looked years and years ago. 

“Hi,” Betty greeted in a tone of voice that could only be used towards a baby (rather high-pitched; cheerful; optimistic). “Hey, it’s okay.” Betty tugged on the blanket under Juniper to be able to pull the child up easier. Finally, the blonde lifted the girl into her arms, letting her beanie-covered head rest on her shoulder. Betty turned to Toni as the pink-haired teen motioned for them to start leaving. 

Betty exited the room, Juniper held close to her securely, and Toni right behind them. They were close to reaching the next hallway when a figure could be seen approaching the door. Betty skidded to a halt, careful to keep hold of her niece. Toni quickly sensed the person and redirected them towards a door labeled “Furnace Room.” 

“In here,” Toni said quickly, using the same pin to open the door expediently. Betty looked over at Toni and saw the red glow behind her. 

“Why are there stairs?” Betty whispered, taking a step towards Toni. 

“I don’t know,” she replied. “Just come on before they see us!” 

Betty could feel it in her gut. She didn’t like the aura of where that room led, not with the precious cargo in her possession. 

“I’ll go another way,” Betty said quickly. “That room behind you feels odd.” 

“Come on, Betty!” 

Toni was becoming a bit too insistent. The blonde looked to the door leading to the next hallway, then back at Toni. 

“I’ve got pepper spray,” she said confidently. “I’ll risk it.” 

Betty quickly passed on the door, moving past and heading towards the original door she was intending to go through. She could hear Toni’s protests behind her, but that only made her move faster. 

Throwing the door open in front of her, Betty  _ did  _ run into someone that she didn’t want seeing her. Keeping true to her word, Betty took the can of mace from her coat pocket and in her free hand, pressing the button and aiming towards the man’s face. He shouted in agony, and Betty took it as an excuse to move quicker. 

Chancing a glance behind her, Betty saw Toni marching after her. Soon it wasn’t just Toni, but Cheryl, too. Kevin, Alice, Polly, Edgar, and Evelyn followed behind them. It wasn’t much later when many of the other members were racing after her. 

Picking up speed with her goddaughter still in her arms, Betty began to run through the darkened halls. She nearly kicked through doors as she jogged, and was nearly able to sigh in relief when she found the set of doors she had entered through. The large group was still on her tail, so when Betty and Juniper hit the cool night air, the blonde took off at a sprint across the grounds. 

Polly, Alice, Edgar, Evelyn, Kevin, Toni, and Cheryl were still hot on her trail, running after the blonde. Betty was just too quick for them. Taking heavy, ragged breaths, Betty ran towards the station wagon on the edge of the road. She could see the car now, sitting there. With one hand, Betty was able to get her key from her coat pocket as she approached the vehicle. 

Betty quickly jammed the key into the slot in the door, taking care to only unlock her door before throwing it open, holding Juniper to her chest a little tighter, and sliding into the seat. As Betty saw her friends, family, and the Evernevers approach, she slammed her door closed and pressed the lock next to the window. 

“You better hold on tight, Junie,” Betty said, allowing the nickname to just roll off her lips. She held the child in her arms and leaned towards the backseat, depositing her niece in the car seat. She quickly buckled her in before spinning around and seeing the Farmies getting closer and closer to the car. In a semi-state of shock, Betty watched them run, beginning to bang on the windows with their fists. 

Betty saw her cousin, mother, and sister all frantically trying to get her to open up. Betty wouldn’t budge. Kevin and Toni were there too, attempting to coax her key away from the ignition. In a state of awe, but also of determination, Betty’s adrenaline-ridden hand shook as it found itself to the seat belt. Juniper began to cry behind Betty because of the noise created by the Farm members around the car. 

As one hand secured her buckle into the seat, another of Betty’s hands rested itself on Juniper’s chest, soothing the child almost instantly. 

“I’ll get you out of here,” Betty told her niece, shoving the key into the ignition, cranking the car, and hitting the accelerator. The Farm members had stepped back the moment that she started the station wagon, but it was only too satisfying to smirk as she watched her mother and sister’s angry faces in the rearview mirror. 

As they drove away, Betty fished out a CD from the center console, and her hand finally landed on a Chopin disk. She quickly popped it into the car’s CD player, letting the speakers fill with the enchanting sounds of the calming piano. It was the same CD she was raised on, and it soothed her anxiety as she drove away from the building that she believed did  _ not  _ deserve her college fund. She could sense that it was helping Juniper, too, as the child was now falling back to sleep. 

To be totally honest, Betty hadn’t truly thought about where she would go with raising her niece until she began the drive back to central Riverdale. Sure, Juniper was now Betty’s responsibility now, but who would she go to for help first? Jughead? Veronica? Archie? Mr. Andrews? Probably a mix of all four. 

Betty knew she would be supported by Jughead, no matter what she decided to do. She’d seen him handle Juniper before, and he was nothing but great with her and Dagwood. She had expected it, to be honest, but Betty had no idea how he would handle this situation. He’d been involved with other things that he promised to catch her up on later, as he had said. 

It was in this moment that Betty couldn’t help but see herself and Jughead raising Juniper like she was their own, whether Betty had to take more responsibility with it, or whether they would share it. She could see her boyfriend being able to help her out with something like that, but Betty knew he had other obligations, too. Imagining Jughead as a nurturing father figure to her niece was something she couldn’t get out of her head, and she couldn’t help but see how he would be later if they decided to eventually have kids of their own. Betty smiled and bit her lip at the thought as she pulled up to park in front of the Pembrooke. 

Getting out of the station wagon quickly, Betty went around to Juniper’s door, getting the toddler out of the car seat and letting her lay on her shoulder once more. Betty shut and locked the station wagon behind her before taking her niece and goddaughter inside the building. 

“You’re home now, Juniper,” Betty whispered to the little girl as they stepped inside the Pembrooke. 


	7. my worst nightmare (came back to life)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A canon account of Prom Night plus a few unseen moments, just for kicks. 
> 
> 3x20 SPOILERS

“Who are you?!”

She was tackled into the door next to her, the gun she held flying across the floor, skidding to a halt across the hall. Looking up, she saw her worst nightmare: the Black Hood. He was back. Nobody in Riverdale stayed dead forever. She was right to question his death, but she never thought she would be on the money with it.

Gaping up at her father, she realized he was in the same clothes he would wear to attack and murder people during her sophomore year. The sight of him, now with a hook for a hand, had her stuttering, jaw dropped, and eyes widened. In a moment of bravery, she kicked his leg out from under him, making him stumble. She got to her feet and started to run, but he swung his hook and slashed her dress. She gasped and let out a squeak as she bolted.

Somehow, she found her way to the Blue and Gold. Luckily, the door was open. She ran inside, shutting the door behind her, and allowing herself to back into it and keeping her hand on the handle. When she grasped her surroundings, she saw a girl, a _student,_ dead on the floor. She didn’t have time to wallow in that in the moment; she had company sooner rather than later.

The Black Hood shoved at the door, banging against it. She didn’t move from her spot, except for turning to look out the skinny window at the man who was making her life a living nightmare. His eyes bore into her soul, but this wasn’t her first altercation with him.

“Dad! Why are you doing this?” she all but cried out.

For some reason or another that she couldn’t explain, she backed away from the door, still facing it. He bursted in noisily. Taking a few running steps back, she threw a stack of papers and books at him. He dodged and she tried to scurry away. He was just too big for that.

The Black Hood grabbed her around the waist, slamming her into the green filing cabinets behind her. She squealed in pain just to stand where she had been before he threw her once more, this time into one of the tables in the middle of the room.

His arms were devastatingly freezing. Frigid, even. He wasn’t even human. He had no compassion left in him. If he got her, he wouldn’t ever let her go, she knew that for a fact.

She took a step away from him and he swung with his hook. She dodged by bending backwards just enough and backing away. Before she knew it, she had slammed into the table on the back wall.

“Dad, you don’t wanna do this!” she screamed desperately.

He didn’t listen. He simply used her moment of weakness to take his hand and place it on her throat, squeezing. She glanced to the side as she began to feel her lungs stop expanding. She saw a stone bust not far from her. She reached a hand over and grabbed it firmly. She swung, almost in the same manner that he had taught her how to swing a baseball bat, and nailed him in the head like it was a baseball. It shoved him into a cabinet and made him grunt, but didn’t knock him out.

She bolted, running through the door, her hand grasping the frame and letting her swiftly turn to the left as she ran down the hall. She was gasping for air frantically, looking over her shoulder to see if he was still behind her.

Her tears and cries joined fluidly with her shaky breaths and the pleas for help she couldn’t vocalize. Her legs were aching, her lungs were burning, and the tears running down her face mixed with the beads of sweat that were forming.

She could only hear the thrumming in her ears as she went past door after door that was chained with a lock, trying to find one that was open. She ran straight for a padlocked door in front of her, a blue glow coming through the frosted glass. She grabbed the handles and pulled desperately so that the chain jangled in front of her.

“SOMEBODY HELP ME!”

It was a tortured, harrowed, panicked scream that resonated in the hallway. She turned back, expecting the Black Hood to be behind her sooner rather than later. She cried and wheezed as she kept running. She heard the piercing, uncomfortable squeal of what she only reasoned to be his hook scraping against a wall of lockers. The sound caused her to shiver and made her heart pound faster shiver as she picked up the pace, seeing the women’s locker room and dodging out of the hall.

She could hear his heavy footsteps far down the hall, but that didn’t stop her from turning on the first shower. Then the second, then the third. She was beginning to create a cloud of steam as she peered inside the fourth shower. Instead of it being empty, as she had presumed it would be, she saw the body of another student. It was a boy this time.

She gasped, nearly running into the wall behind her. Hearing the footsteps louder now, she kept moving, slowly and quietly moving around the corner and out of sight. Hiding behind a locker after grabbing a hockey stick, she heard the terrible sound of his hook against the tile across from the showers. She shuddered again at the noise, keeping her breathing quiet as he stepped through the cloud of steam she made.

He stepped into the main locker area, moving slowly, though she could still hear his footsteps. He turned away from where she was, ready to strike. When he stopped in the middle of the floor, she crept behind him, whacking him in the head with her weapon.

He must have seen it coming because he turned to face her as she nearly fell on him. The Black Hood grabbed her for the fourth time that night and she squealed again, but she quickly nailed an elbow to his gut. This allowed her a single step before he grabbed at her again. She grabbed the empty laundry cart and pulled it behind her, using it to separate them. He quickly threw it to the side recklessly as she bolted out of the locker room.

She was running again, her dress fluttering and flying behind her.

Any Gryphons and Gargoyles nerd that would have been watching then would have recognized the role she played in the game. She was the Gryphon Queen, a force to be reckoned with, the opposite force of the Gargoyle King. She was the kind of person that would make you step out of the way in terror before she ran you over. When she had a mission, she stuck to it, whether or not you stood in front of her. She was the one that was predestined to take down the Gargoyle King, to vanquish the darkness, to overcome it.

But to herself, she felt like the same teenager she always was, running away from the family that was making her life a living nightmare.

Nearly wheezing now, she saw the main staircase, but much more importantly, she saw the door to the janitor’s closet under it. Chancing a glance behind her, she looked back and didn’t see him, so she bolted to the door.

Before she knew it, she was inside, panting. She quickly pulled out her phone with shaky hands, finding the phone app and dialing 911. Unfortunately, she wasn’t able to hit the call button before she backed into something in the closet: a decapitated body. She turned and saw it, her eyes widening.

She let loose a blood-curdling scream, unknowingly giving away her position.

She heard the footsteps again, moving faster in her direction. She immediately pulled the handle back, but she startled violently when the Black Hood began banging on the wood. She let go of the handle only for a moment, though it was just a moment too many as he slipped his hook inside the door, trying to reach for her.

She pushed his hook out as best as she could manage through the tears and trauma, pulling the door shut again. She was crying quietly, letting go of a few sobs as the Black Hood continued to bang on the door. She kept the door pulled closed, her head facing the ground as a few tears left her cheeks and splashed on the cement floor under her.

She was fearing for her life when the banging suddenly stopped. She began to relax slightly, letting herself breathe heavily as she kept her head bowed and her hand on the handle. She stood there as the last bits of adrenaline took over her body, and she could feel how cold she was.

She remembered the nearly frozen-feeling arms of her father and she shivered. Suddenly, the room felt colder, even in the middle of the springtime. Trembling sobs and breaths were let go of as she pulled against the janitor closet door. She was very audibly crying, waiting for what seemed like her inevitable death. Her eyes faced the ground, hoping for any sign, any form of other life that didn’t wear a black hood.

There was a sudden knock on the door. She flinched and whimpered.

“Betty? It’s Jug.”

_He was looking for her._

_He was there to save her._

_He was calling her out of hiding._

Her head bolted up, letting fresh tears roll down the skin of her face. She lessened the pressure on the door, rising to her full height. She pushed the door open with a shuddering hand.

“Jug!” she cried from inside, bounding forward. She ignored the shocked look on his face as she slammed into him, almost jumping into his arms. He embraced her trembling, crying, anxious, harrowed soul, enfolding her in his arms at long last.

She suddenly pulled back.

“Did you see him? Did you see him?” she asked shakily.

“Who? The Gargoyle King?”

“No! The Black Hood! The Black Hood is back, Jug!”

He held her head even tighter to his shoulder, comforting and soothing her as she rambled about the Black Hood’s reemergence. He was in shock, she could tell.

She held onto him, not letting go, balling up the thick material of his robe and gripping it tightly. He listened to her, no matter how hysterical she thought she sounded, removing one hand to reach inside his pants pocket and grab his phone. He quickly dialed his dad and told her the same. He reassured her as he waited for his father to pick up. She clung to him and his radiating warmth around her cold body.

She listened and cried, holding him tightly as he and his dad agreed they should meet in Principal Weatherbee’s office as soon as possible. He held her closer as he hung up, her tears still streaming down her face as he pocketed his phone once more. They were both in a shocked haze, so things seemed to move faster than they actually did. She was stunned when he spoke up after a while.

“We need to go to Weatherbee’s office, Betty,” he whispered. “Let’s get away from here, come on.”

He tried to guide her along so they could shuffle down the hall, but she almost fell when he began to move. She pulled away from his shoulder when she was standing up straight again, pushing a few tears away with her sleeve. She continued to hold onto his tunic in a death grip with the other hand. He looked at her before speaking.

“Let me carry you there,” he suggested softly, kissing her temple. She nodded immediately, so he scooped her up bridal-style and began walking down the hall quickly. He was eager to get away from any prying eyes as she buried her face in his chest, letting the last of her tears fall. He cradled her in his arms as he whispered assurances that she was safe.

Sooner rather than later, he was opening the door to Weatherbee’s quiet office and shutting it behind him, her still sitting in his arms. He gently set her down in a chair, and she immediately pulled her knees to her chest, rocking slightly as he could see the evident tear stains on her cheeks. Seeing that she was going into shock, he took a good glance around the room. Not seeing a blanket in the vicinity, he took off his robe quickly, covering her cowering frame with it.

She shook violently after he made sure she was draped in the thick material. It wasn’t because of the cold, but because she was afraid, anxious, and in shock all at once. He had watched as she trembled from behind. He leaned over her shoulder to whisper in her ear.

“You’re okay. You’re safe, Betty.”

She nodded vigorously and choked out another sob.

He held to her shoulders, rubbing circles with his thumbs and muttering sweet nothings into her ear. She was becoming engulfed by his loving presence and the soothing whispers. A few stray tears wandered down her face later, thankful she was safe.

His father came in later with a real blanket for her before he started having a look around for any damage and listening to what she had to say. When the sheriff left, they were left alone in the room once more. He exchanged his cloak for the blanket he wrapped around her shoulders. After fastening his robe around him once more, he took up his original position, holding her shoulders from behind again.

The sheriff came back later when he was done looking around, closing the office door behind him. His son kissed the top of the blonde’s head as the sheriff turned around.

“It was a setup, Jug,” she said.

The sheriff sat down in a chair across from her as his son removed his arms from where they were wrapped around her head, placing his hands on her shoulders.

“The gospel that we found, the proclamation, it was all to get me alone with my dad again,” she continued brokenly, her knees still tucked to her chest as she pulled the blanket around her shoulders even tighter.

“Can’t believe none of us saw it coming, the return of the Black Hood...” he paused for a moment. “Now we have two serial killers running around.”

“Possibly working together,” his girlfriend added.

“And both of them outsmarting us,” the sheriff huffed from across the room.

She sighed, closing her eyes in defeat as he slid his arms down and wrapped them loosely around her neck, cradling her head between his biceps and resting the side of his face against her soft blonde hair. He felt her sigh again, pull the blanket further around her, and lean her head against one of his arms. Eventually, the sheriff left to give them some space. They stayed there for a while, in the quiet, peaceful room. She worried herself with nothing but her boyfriend, his warm, stable arms, and the gentle kisses on the crown of her head. He didn’t budge from where he was.

After a few minutes, two paramedics entered the room with the sheriff, just there to make sure everything was okay after the traumatizing ordeal.

He stayed with her the whole time as she complied with the paramedics. She was treated for shock, along with bandaging up her thigh that had been cut by the hook when it ripped her dress. She was given an ice pack for the spots where she’d been slammed into things, specifically in the Blue and Gold. She was anxious, but she knew by the swirls made on the back of her hand with his thumb that she was going to be okay. The paramedics suggested getting her home, getting her in bed, and letting her rest.

His father escorted them both to his cruiser as he kept his hand around the small of her back. Her grip was on one of his sleeves, refusing to let go. The dark cloak that he had worn with his costume was hanging on her shoulders again, along with the grey blanket wrapped around her under the cloak.

He assisted her into the back of his father’s patrol car carefully, helping her buckle in. He got in the back with her as his father took the wheel, pulling away from Riverdale High gently. She immediately leaned into his shoulder and he wrapped his arm around her back, securing her to his side. Nobody said a word the entire time, even when they pulled onto Elm Street and rode up the driveway.

He got out of the car first, then helped her out as his father unlocked the door. His hand immediately found its place on her side as they walked inside the house. It was dark, but they could all see, so he guided her to the staircase after saying goodnight to his dad. They began to ascend as she gripped his sleeve tightly. They found their way to the room she used to call her own and he opened the door for her, letting her inside before closing the door behind them. She waited for him to come back to her before she moved.

“I bet you just wanna go to sleep,” he said softly, stroking her arm gently. She nodded and moved closer to him, hugging him. He leaned his head against hers and sighed as they swayed slightly.

“I’m so happy you’re safe,” he rasped. “I nearly had a panic attack when they announced you as prom queen and you weren’t there.”

“I’m sorry I left and didn’t tell you,” she replied shakily. “The invitation told me not to tell anyone, so I didn’t. I’m so stupid.”

“No you’re not,” he whispered. “You thought you had the chance to get the Gargoyle King alone. You were tricked, and I can’t blame you for that. You didn’t deserve any of this, Betty. And you’re not stupid.”

“I should have known it was a setup. I’m an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot.”

She scoffed, not believing him.

“And if you’re an idiot, then you’re _my_ idiot.” She choked out a laugh this time as he rubbed her back caringly. They stayed like that for a few moments, just basking in the peace of the still pastel bedroom that used to belong to her.

“I love you, Betty,” he whispered hoarsely. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to protect you.”

She could feel the way his usually strong figure was starting to weaken and burden itself. The worried feeling he had for her taking over. It made his voice thick with emotion and he felt himself about to cry.

“I don’t know what I would do if I lost you.”

And that’s when they both burst into tears. They held each other closer, nearly crushing each other’s ribcages at the sheer force of it.

“I love you so much, Jug,” she sobbed. He pulled his head away from hers and left a long kiss on her forehead. When he let go of it, he could see her eyes closed, trails left where her tears were. He was sure he had them too. She was still wrapped in his cloak and the blanket his father had given her. He was sure she was just about ready to get out of that dress, too.

“Let me help you get ready for bed,” he suggested. She nodded as they walked towards the middle of the room. He unfastened the cloak from around her neck, whirling it around just to throw it on the floor behind him. “It’s gonna be cold for a minute.” She nodded as Jughead peeled the blanket from her shoulders and tossed it on the bed.

Together, they helped each other get out of their medieval attire, which was much needed because getting it off was much more complicated than putting it on. They both continued to take off layer after layer until they were standing only in their undergarments. Betty had to pry the crown beanie from his dark hair and send it flying to call it fair.

Gradually, she began to shiver, her jaw rattling.

“Cold?” he asked. She nodded. He picked up the blanket from the bed, draping it back over her shoulders.

“Thanks.”

“I’ll get our clothes. You stay right here.”

She nodded again as he walked away, rifling through his drawers and closet before coming back with his arms full with clothing. She watched him curiously as he dumped it all on the bed. He sorted it all into two piles. When he was satisfied, he turned to her.

“You left your fluffy socks last week,” he commented, holding up the pastel pink material for her to see. She blushed slightly. “In addition, I also have pajama pants, a shirt, and a sweatshirt for you. That sound good?”

“I don’t know... Are they yours?” she joked.

“Yes.”

“Then you have your answer.”

“Want me to help?”

She nodded, peeling away the blanket and letting it fall on the bed behind her. He approached her first with the shirt, throwing it over her head and guiding her arms through. He took the socks and pants next, helping her into both. The finishing touch was a navy RHS hoodie that looked to be too small on him now, but it fit her perfectly. She loved how it smelled like him, but she definitely appreciated the kiss to her forehead after he had pulled the oversized hood off of her head.

Before she knew it, he had nearly jumped into his pajamas, pushing his dark hair away from his eyes and walking towards her. He quickly brought her into a hug, and before she knew it, she was being lifted into his arms caringly. He kept a tight hold on her as he carried her, depositing her on her side of the bed, the side she always had.

“Welcome back to your bed,” he said softly, smiling slightly.

“It’s your bed now, though.”

“It will always be your bed, Betts. Now get under the covers before I start a tickle war.”

“Shit, not the tickle war,” she said, allowing herself to lay back on the pillow as he pulled the covers up to her chest. When he was satisfied with his work, he clambered onto the bed and climbed over her. She laughed madly, not caring how loud she was as he dropped himself to the mattress with a thud. He looked back over at her and took her around the waist, pulling her closer to him. She giggled again when he did this, but silenced herself when their gazes caught each other.

Wrapping his arm around her back, he held her close to him, tilting her chin up to meet his lips in a gentle kiss.

“I love you, Betty,” he whispered.

“I love you too,” she replied, snaking her arms around his back and leaning into him as he cradled her body. He kissed her hairline as her eyes closed slowly, letting her drift to sleep.

Outside, two psychopaths may have been running around and planning their next move.

But here? In this bed? In this house?

They were safe.

The Gryphon Queen and her hellcaster.


End file.
